


From One Foot to the Other

by stellahibernis



Series: Entire History of Human Desire [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes as Captain America, Building a Life, Evolution of a relationship, Friends to Lovers, Healing, M/M, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve is taking a long overdue break, background Nat/Sam, mentions of past relationships - Freeform, real time fic, twelve days over a year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 08:59:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11399331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellahibernis/pseuds/stellahibernis
Summary: A year from the initial mess with the Sokovia Accords, Steve’s life is almost miraculously fine. He’s back in New York, living with Bucky, and for once taking a break and concentrating on his art.It’s the first time since he woke up in the future that he really has a chance to settle and think what exactly he wants, and finally reach for the happiness that has so far eluded him.





	1. July 4th 2017

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion fic to [Forget the Dragon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10590288/chapters/23409510), told from Steve’s point of view while the other one is Bucky’s. They overlap chronologically, and each chapter is set entirely on the day of posting. This first chapter is set on Steve’s 99th birthday and there’ll be twelve in total for him, ending on June 4th 2018.
> 
> The story is posted as two fics instead of just one, so that when they’re all finished, there will be two ways to read it, all in chronological order, or all of one person’s POV at once, and then the other. It’ll make two slightly different ways to experience the story. I’ll post links in the end notes of chapters when the chronological order requires jumping from one fic to the other, so either way of reading is easy.

On the morning of his 99th birthday Steve wakes up to the phone buzzing on the mattress next to him, and he knows it’s not going to be good news.

It’s not  _ bad news, _ as such; it’s from Bucky and the mere act of him texting instead of going with the safe email is an indication that Bucky, Nat and Sam are about as safe as they can get on a mission, but still. Apparently they’ve found another HYDRA tendril taking out the latest group, and they have to follow it immediately or else risk losing it again. They’re not willing to do that, and Steve understands, even supports the sentiment. He’d do exactly the same.

Still, over the last month Bucky and the rest of them have been gone more often than not. Now it’s Steve’s birthday, his first in the house he bought after deciding to take a break from his duties with the Avengers and now shares with Bucky, and there had been the hope, maybe even expectation that his friends would be home later on the day. Apparently not.

It’s early, earlier than he usually wakes up, but Steve hauls himself out of the bed and straight into his running clothes. Not like he’d sleep anyway.

He takes a long run, and notes that people are already starting the preparations for the day even though the sun has barely risen when he comes back home. In the shower he tries to decide what he wants to do, and nothing feels agreeable.

Today is apparently one of those days that feel strange to him, feel like he’s in limbo even though this is all his choosing. It’s been just thirteen months since the Sokovia Accords were introduced, since everything else went down. Sometimes it’s still hard for Steve to wrap his head around the fact that he’s actually able to live in New York again without hiding, that Bucky is free and awake. The first half a year  after they’d settled in Wakanda was madness and stress, culminating to them finding out HYDRA’s involvement in creating the Accords, which made the international community reconsider them. T’Challa took an active role in the shaping of the new legislation, the enhanced have been involved in the process, and it looks better now, reasonable.

After that half a year, in the heart of miserable winter just six months ago Steve had finally started to consider taking a break. He’d known then he’d been near falling apart with it all, and when Bucky had been brought out of stasis it had been enough of an incentive to make a new start. Now Steve spends his days with his art instead of battle plans, and tries not to worry too much when Bucky goes after HYDRA with Nat and Sam. Part of Steve had hoped Bucky could just take the rest now that he didn’t need to hide, but it’s not surprising to him that it hadn’t happened that way. At least he knows Bucky feels more at peace now than he has for some time, feels there’s purpose and balance in his life, and it’s probably all Steve can expect.

It just leaves him with days like this, alone in the house in Park Slope that’s more than he could have dreamed of eight decades earlier, finding it hard to settle.

The Avengers will have some kind of an informal gathering at the Tower in the evening, and Steve could go there, but he doesn’t feel like it, not really. He hasn’t been at any of the previous ones either, for several reasons. He actually hasn’t celebrated a single birthday since waking up from the ice. This year, he had vaguely considered going, making a day of it, but all things considered, he thinks he’ll end up just not enjoying it, being among friends and looking for those who won’t be there. It’s probably pathetic, he well knows, but it’s true none the less, and he feels like it would be unfair toward his friends to be there but not really.

He picks up his phone and strikes blank for a second, because he can’t quite decide who he should text. Normally it would be Nat or Sam, but obviously that won’t work now. Finally he sighs and pulls out the running conversation he has with Tony, and types in that they shouldn’t wait for him in the evening. The party’s at Tony’s place, after all.

Then he turns the phone off, because he doesn’t feel like dealing with the possible questions or comments, only to turn it back on a moment later, because it tastes too much like cowardice, and besides, there are people that need to be able to reach him promptly.

All in all, it’s not in any way ideal birthday morning, Steve thinks as he eats his bacon sandwiches and drinks his coffee.

***

Surprisingly, the phone doesn’t ring, and Steve manages to get lost in his book for a while that morning, living along with Sam Vimes trying to get used to a life as a part of nobility and all the assorted troubles. When the doorbell rings he’s surprised to note it’s nearly eleven.

It’s Wanda, who as far as Steve knew was supposed to be in South Korea, but here she is, looking comfortable in a flowing dress and flip flops in the sweltering heat of the day, a shopping bag hanging from her elbow.

“Thought I’d come and offer to make you a birthday lunch,” she says as Steve lets her in.

The heaviness Steve has felt since the morning dissipates a little. “Only if I get to make the cake.”

“Deal.”

Steve shows her to the kitchen, and she abandons the groceries for a moment in favor of going out to the little garden at the back of their townhouse, where Steve hasn’t done much of anything yet. There are some flowers planted there by previous owners that must be perennial, as well as what he thinks are herbs. He hasn’t really taken time to investigate, even though it’s not like he’s been busy.

“Your oregano is doing very well,” Wanda says, confirming that there actually are edible herbs in the garden.

Steve explains how he doesn’t know anything about gardening, and that he’s just been watering them. Predictably she laughs, but it’s the friendly kind of laugh that Steve has never minded. Now it makes him suddenly even more glad that she’s back in New York.

“Well, keep doing what you do, seems to be working. Can you get me scissors and a bowl of some kind? Since you have proper fresh herbs, there’s no reason not to use them.”

Steve does, and she snips away, the air becoming fragrant with familiar smells. 

“This is mint, it’ll take over the whole garden if you don’t watch it,” she says, as she adds a few more sprigs to the bowl.

Back inside they make themselves drinks with the fresh mint, and get to cooking. Wanda makes some kind of a stew that she says is traditional Sokovian, although the recipe seems to be rather flexible, depending on what’s available. The scents rising from the pot are wonderful.

Steve makes his mother’s apple cake. He knows the recipe by heart, even now that it’s been years since he last made it. He’s been avoiding it, thinking that all it would bring is loneliness, but now he dares to try. There are new friendships for him in this world, and now that he’s taking a break from fighting, he’s starting to let himself believe they are tied by more than just the common desire to use their powers and skill to combat evil. That may have been the reason they came together, but over time what they mean to each other has become more than that.

They eat on the terrace looking over the garden, under the shade of the awning, and everything tastes great. The cake is familiar, and there are memories that come with it, but they’re not bitter now. Steve tells Wanda a bit about his mother, and it’s easy because she too knows loss, the pain and moving forward from it.

They’ve stayed in regular contact even after they left Wakanda months earlier, but it’s not the same as being together like this, and they talk about their lives and all that’s been going on for them. Wanda seems to be more in peace with herself, really settling into accepting and growing into her powers after the shit storm that happened when the Accords were first on the table. Steve still sometimes sees it in his nightmares, the way she’d looked in her cell on the Raft, bound and secured with a neural inhibitor, her eyes dull.

Steve has been part of the team offering commentary to the new superhuman legislation, and one of the things he’s paid special attention to is the due process for those suspected of committing a crime, as well as detaining procedures.

After they’re done eating and catching up, Steve takes her around the house, showing her how they’re living these days. She hadn’t been able to make it back in late April when they’d moved in with Bucky, but it’s okay. Steve likes their house better now anyway, it’s starting to look like they’re really living there.

The door to Bucky’s room is open, and the shield is fully visible there, leaning to the foot of his bed.

“Do you miss it, being Captain America?”

The question isn’t all that unexpected, nor is she the first one to ask it, but Steve thinks about his answer nonetheless.

“No, not really. I’m happy to take a break, and even when I get back to it in the future, I don’t need that role to be able to do good. Besides, I was done with it after Siberia, and I never really carried the shield again even after Tony gave it back to me. There are so many things tied to it, expectations and preconceptions that I can’t work with. It feels like I’ve done what I can for now as Captain America, and it’s time for me to be something else.”

“So you’re just going to give the expectations to Bucky?” The question isn’t accusatory, it’s as neutral as such a question can be, just her wanting to know.

“I don’t think it’ll work like that. You see, passing on the shield marks even for outsiders a clean start, and they’re going to take a moment to see how it’s all going to shape up. For me most of what I didn’t like about it accumulated over the years I was in ice when I had no control over it, and when I came back it all got attached to me.”

“So maybe if you give it up, you’ll be able to operate free of it all.”

“I hope so anyway,” Steve says, and motions her upstairs.

Wanda’s eyes go big with delight when she sees the studio. “I didn’t know you painted.”

It’s true, not that many people here in the future do, even now that he actually has taken it up again.. Drawing, that is pretty well known, to the extent that there are some of his sketches done during the war in the exhibition that the Smithsonian put together and that’s been revived for a tour to other museums since his pardon. Also anyone that has spent any significant time around him probably has seen him doodling on any piece of paper at hand. 

Despite that, Steve hasn’t really talked about his art interest to anyone since the serum, not even hinted it goes beyond just drawing. Even Peggy hadn’t really known about it; they’d only gotten to know each other after he enlisted and nearly all their discussions were about the war, with brief hopes of life after, things barely dared to put into words there among all the horror. It just had never really come up.

Truth be told, he never really wanted to get back to painting after he woke up, not until after they were been pardoned half a year ago. Steve had gone back upstate New York, exhausted by the chase after the revealed HYDRA agents and their superiors, and the subsequent political wrangling. It had all come out okay, but it had taken its toll. Steve hadn’t felt like going straight back to Wakanda, so he’d come to the Avengers compound, settled again in the rooms that had belonged to him and that no one had touched since he left for Peggy’s funeral. He’d been tired but unable to sleep, and he’d just needed something else, something other than fighting to think about. He’d ended up reading about the history of art over the decades he spent in ice.

Steve never was anyone significant when it came to art, maybe never would have been considering his resources and even his expected lifespan, but he had been in the fringes of the art circles of New York, and he remembers there was a new sort of energy born during the early war years. There had been an influx of artists coming from Europe, right when Steve had started to look more toward the western front. During that sleepless night Steve immersed himself in it, learned the term abstract expressionism, and found himself lost in the images of paintings by Gorky and Pollock, Kline and de Kooning. He found his fingers itching; the desire to have a brush in his hand and a canvas in front of him had been lit again.

That had been the night he’d started thinking about taking a break.

Wanda makes a slow circle of the studio, looking at all the paintings propped around, and it’s probably inevitable that Steve finds himself reaching for his palette. Wanda is even more delighted at the idea, and settles down on the window seat, doing the exercises that help her hone her concentration, tiny balls of red light spinning all around her.

Steve mixes his paints fast, finding just the right shades, and begins working.

“Before the serum,” he tells her, “I was partially colorblind, couldn’t distinguish reds and greens properly. Back then I painted, but I was careful about colors. I like to be able to see it all now.”

“That explains why you have so much red in them,” Wanda says, and the lights spin faster.

Steve works quickly; he knows he won’t finish the painting now, but he gets the basic shape and colors down, enough that he’ll be able to continue later. He’ll remember how Wanda looks now, the sun falling over her from the window, the red dancing around her.

Steve has been getting more and more comfortable with painting over the months he’s lived in their new house. His style has evolved since he last did it before the war, and it certainly has its roots in the abstract expressionism. He thinks he would have gone that way had there not been war, but it’s not the same now as it would have been. He is a different man now, the paintings tell a different story. 

After an hour Steve pauses, and Wanda stands in front of the painting for a long time. Steve would fidget, except there’s a soft smile in her eyes, so he thinks he’s done all right. He tells her to come back later to see it finished, and hugs her tight before saying goodbyes.

The house feels empty again, and Steve contemplates on going back to the painting, but the fit seems to have settled for now. He picks up his book, but can’t really concentrate on it. It’s quiet in the house, and the sounds from the street, people happy and celebrating, grate on his nerves.

***

Later in the afternoon the doorbell rings again, and Steve should probably be less surprised by it. It isn’t that usual for their doorbell to ring without him having at least an idea of who it is supposed to be, but maybe he should expect his some of friends to make a surprise trek down on this day.

It turns out to be Sharon, carrying a six pack of already cold beer.

“A little bird told me you’d decided to skip the party.”

“Who exactly is the little bird in this scenario?” Steve asks while opening bottles and taking out the remaining apple cake.

“Sam. He’s got the wings and all, you know.”

“He’s also in Azerbaijan, the last I heard.”

“Yeah, but Stark messaged Nat to complain about you skipping out on him, and apparently he planned to have the party brought to you. She talked him out of it.” Sharon grins at what probably is a pained grimace on Steve’s face.

“Jesus. I have to remember to thank her.” Steve again feels grateful for his friends, although he has to push away the thought of why did he only get the one message in the morning, if they are safe enough to talk to people.

“Yeah, according to Sam she told Stark to mind his own business and let you mope in peace.”

“And yet, here you are,” Steve says and smiles.

“Sam figured you wouldn’t want a whole delegation but company couldn’t hurt. This cake is really good by the way.”

“He was right. And it’s my mother’s recipe, Wanda was here earlier, so I made it.”

Sharon hums, understanding, but doesn’t prod any more at the source of the recipe, which Steve is grateful for. “So she’s back from her travels, is she going to stick around?”

“Not sure. Don’t think she is either, but she seems to be doing well.”

They eat their cake and drink the beers in the heat that’s still oppressive despite the shadows lengthening. Steve suspects there might be a thunderstorm coming later. They talk about the people they know, both from SHIELD and the Avengers, and Sharon tells him a few stories about her family.

It’s getting easy to be with her again. They dated for a while, and they’d truly tried to make it work, even though they’d both been laying low. In the end, that hadn’t been the reason they’d fallen through. It just hadn’t clicked, and there isn’t any particular reason for it that Steve can isolate, it’s just that it turned out they aren’t the right for each other. They do get along though, and they make good friends, which Steve is happy about. He still doesn’t have too many of those.

After they decided to call it quits, there was a period of awkwardness when they were settling into new patterns of being around each other, and found out where the boundaries lay now that they are friends and nothing else. It took a while, but it’s finally comfortable again.

Sometimes Steve wonders if the dating thing came from him just grasping for something human, the way he is doing now too with the house and art, if he was grasping for something other than being Captain America. If so, it wasn’t exactly fair toward her. On the other hand, they both chose to try, and they mutually chose to separate. There is no residual tension between them, so it all turned out fine. And it’s not like the house and the art are only a way to escape, either, they mean worlds just for themselves.

Steve thinks it’s rather funny how Natasha seems a little put upon by the fact that Steve and Sharon hadn’t ultimately suited each other, since it was her who’d done the initial push of them toward each other. But that’s how it goes, it’s never possible to predict exactly who will work out with each other and who will not.

Mostly Steve is just glad these days that Nat hasn’t taken up to setting him up with people again. Right now he’s not missing it at all, and he thinks it’s probably better if he tries to find a footing for himself first before bringing another person in it. Natasha probably knows it too.

Sharon stays for a few hours, they drink the beers and then she leaves to go to the Tower. Steve feels better for her and Wanda having been there, and is a bit surprised after the wake up that he had to find out he considers it a good birthday.

***

Technically they don’t have a roof access, but it doesn’t mean one can’t get to the roof, especially with enhanced strength. Steve goes out through his bedroom window, and hauls himself up over the edge. He finds a comfortable place to sit on top, and settles to wait. It’s dark already and in a few minutes the fireworks should begin over the river. Steve hasn’t watched them since before the war.

The heat is still heavy in the air, and there are clouds in the southern sky, inky masses that promise a storm. At least they waited until the day was mostly done. 

The first bang surprises Steve a bit, even when he knew it was coming, but then he settles in to watch the bright lights, so much bigger and more complicated than the ones he remembers.

The last time he watched the fireworks on his birthday, he was up on the roof too, although it had been the roof of their terrible tenement house near Navy Yard and not a neat townhouse in Park Slope. He hadn’t been alone then, Bucky had been there knocking his elbow at Steve’s side, instead of being on the other side of the world.

It’s strange still, being at home while Bucky is gone on a mission. It’s different from when Bucky was in the army, because then Steve had wanted to do it too and hadn’t been allowed to, and this time it’s his own choice to stay behind. He’s still adjusting to the quiet life, to living day by day, planning on what to make for dinner instead of the next mission against HYDRA. It’s strange to live this life where some of the biggest decisions he faces are whether he needs to go and get more painting supplies.

He worries too, over Bucky, Nat, and Sam, out there chasing after HYDRA, putting themselves in danger. He worries more now than he used to, it was easier when he was right there with them and had some control over the situation. Now all he can do is wait and hope nothing bad happens. After all, he knows things can go wrong at any time. 

There are nights when he wakes up from nightmares depicting all kinds of might have beens, with the certainty that he’s in the wrong, that he should be out there with them, that it’s wrong to stay back when he’s capable of helping. In the light of day he also knows that in truth, he might be physically capable, and yet he isn’t, because he’s been stretched so thin over the last few years that he knows he’s been nearing to a point where he might just snap, and that would be so much worse. So he stays back, and he worries, and he tries to recover enough of himself that when he’s truly needed he can go back to it and not break under the stress.

The fireworks are over but Steve lingers on the roof, reluctant to break the mood and go back to the empty house. It would signal an end to a day that has been a bit of this and that, happiness and disappointment and worry. He doesn’t want it to end yet.

The phone rings in his pocket, and he fumbles a bit in his hurry to answer, since it’s Bucky’s ringtone.

“Bucky? Is everything okay.”

There’s a huff of laughter at the other end. “Fine, we’re all safe and sound, settled into waiting again. And happy birthday, sorry we couldn’t get back.”

“It’s okay, it’s been a good one nonetheless.”

“Has it really? Or are you just saying so to make me not feel guilty?” Bucky asks, and it’s a fair question Steve thinks, because he might have said the same even if he had been miserable the whole day.

“Yes, really. I mean, I would have liked to have you guys here but it’s been okay. Sharon was here, and Wanda came earlier too, I haven’t just been alone moping around the house.”

“Okay, good.” 

They fall into a quiet, Bucky doesn’t seem to find a thread of the conversation, and all Steve can think of is what they are doing with Sam and Nat, but he doesn’t want to ask. He knows he has to keep a distance; if he starts asking, he’ll soon be planning the missions and then he’ll be back at it and the whole effort of taking a break will be done and dusted.

“I watched the fireworks,” Steve finally says into the quiet.

“Yeah? Guess they’re a bit more extravagant these days. Tell you what, we’ll watch them together next year.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Steve says, but it doesn’t feel bitter now, to know that his next birthday might again be one where they have no time to settle down.

“You’re disturbingly realistic,” Bucky grumbles, and Steve laughs because he can see the scowl on Bucky’s face.

“Yeah, well. It’s okay though.”

They’re quiet again, and Steve watches the storm clouds get closer and closer. Even in the dark he can tell they’re already raining in the south, and that it will only be minutes before they’re over Brooklyn.

It’s Bucky’s time to break the silence. “Steve, I —”

Steve waits but there’s nothing else. “What?”

Bucky sighs loud enough Steve hears it over the first crack of thunder.

“I don’t know. I don’t have the words yet, I guess. I’ll get back to it.”

“Okay.”

They’re quiet again, and somehow it doesn’t feel awkward, the same way it’s not awkward when they’re together at home, not talking, just spending time together. The first raindrops fall.

Steve reluctantly gets to his feet. “I have to go in, it’s starting to rain in here.”

“Yeah, okay. See you soon, we’ll try to wrap this up as soon as possible, and then we’ll come home. We’re all fed up with staying at safehouses.”

“Be safe.”

“Always.”

It’s a promise Steve lets Bucky make, even if it’s not exactly true, the history has taught it to them. But then, it’s a promise they’ve made to each other since the war, and despite all, they’re here still, living in a house that Steve finally dares to call home, his first in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chronologically the next chapter is Bucky’s, he’ll come back home from the mission, [here's a direct link to it](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10590288/chapters/25695963).


	2. August 4th 2017

Steve wakes up into another day; feeling strange, unsettled, but not in a bad way. It takes him a moment to register what exactly it is, but when he does, he huffs in laughter. The thing is, he’s calm, he’s safe, he’s home, he’s slept well, Bucky and the others are home too and not going anywhere in the immediate future as far as they know. The sliver of sky he can see between his curtains is clear and blue, promising it’ll be a beautiful day. Steve is content, and even now it’s not a feeling he’s used to.

He stretches in his bed and stays there for a few more minutes, but he’s never been one to lay idle, even on days when there’s nothing in particular he needs to do. It’s early still, usual time for him to be up even after nights that have not been disturbed by nightmares. He goes to bathroom, brushes his teeth and dresses into his running clothes. He can hear Bucky moving about on the floor below, also getting ready for the day.

Steve runs more regularly than Bucky, even when they’re both at home. He enjoys the simplicity of it, his mind calms down with the action and the miles passing under his feet, with the changing scenery. It’s easier to focus afterward, to see things more clearly. He’s also noticed it doesn’t work the same way on treadmills for some reason. It had taken Steve a while to convince Tony back when he lived at the Tower that it wasn’t the fault of the machine, that he wouldn’t start using the gym for running no matter how much fine tuning Tony did. He just needs to get out, nothing else works quite like it.

As far as he knows it’s not the same for Bucky, for him running is just general exercise and what comes with it, nothing deeper like it’s for Steve. Bucky has found meditating techniques that help him, even though he can’t really explain why they do. Steve hasn’t questioned it, not like he can explain the running either, and he’s glad there’s something that works for Bucky.

Still, it’s not really a surprise when Bucky comes out of his room and follows Steve down, they go together often enough, more for companionship than anything else. He’s wearing a t-shirt that leaves his left arm fully visible, and hasn’t bothered with the concealing netting that makes it look more like a biological arm. Now that he’s free, it varies how much Bucky lets people see his left arm. Sometimes he hides it, with the netting or long sleeves and gloves, a hand held in pocket. Sometimes it feels like he almost flaunts it, defiance stamped in the lines of his body. Now though, it seems to be one of the easy days when he can just take it as an arm. It’s warm enough to wear a t-shirt, so he does, nothing more complicated than that.

Steve is happy to see it, since it means Bucky must have woken up feeling well too.

They drink water and protein shakes for energy, and start toward east, not really keeping track of where they’re going. There are people on the streets already, going to work, and they keep their pace low enough they’re no danger to others on the sidewalk.

They’re not talking much, a random comment here or there, mostly just running and enjoying the day. Steve notices people recognizing them, but no one tries to stop them or even call out to them.

They end up at Coney Island where the debris from the plane crash that the Spider-kid was involved has been cleared away and the landscaping is almost finished. Steve has been there often volunteering with the clean up effort, and Bucky has come too on his free time. Now they run the boardwalk all the way from east to west, and slow down to walk in the end. Bucky smiles at something Steve says, and as the ocean breeze tousles his now short hair he looks young and carefree for a moment. Just a year ago Steve would have found it hard to believe they’d get to this easy existence so soon.

They decide to go back on the train now that the streets are even more crowded, and pop into a diner in their neighborhood for breakfast.

***

After he’s showered Steve goes to his studio as he does on most days. He stands in the middle of the room, considering, but nothing really jumps at him. It’s like that sometimes, not finding any specific inspiration, but Steve still tries to get something done every day. He remembers his lessons, about teaching his hand to work even on off days, so that when the big inspiration hits he’ll have the tools at his disposal to execute his vision the best he can.

“I’ve got to run some errands,” Bucky says from the door.

Steve hadn’t heard him come up at all; sometimes Bucky lets himself be heard when he moves around the house, but most of the time it’s still most natural for him to be completely silent, even in heavy boots like he is wearing now. Steve has learned to not be surprised, just to accept the possibility of Bucky turning up at any time. 

Errands in this context definitely means something to do with his job, either going after HYDRA or as Captain America. Bucky isn’t officially an Avenger, yet anyway, since things aren’t quite as rigid as they were when the Accords were first introduced, which means there’s no formal signing into anything. He has been at the compound upstate a few more times since Steve took him there for shield training a few weeks ago.

Steve hasn’t asked Bucky what exactly he’s doing there, still keeping the careful distance from anything to do with Avengers, but he did ask how it goes with Tony. Steve knows things are still tense, and while there has been forgiveness toward everyone, their history is tricky and won’t stop mattering overnight. Apparently there hasn’t been any trouble, and Steve figures he’ll stay out of it, let them sort it out for themselves.

These days Steve has a running text conversation with Tony, the two of them exchanging at least a few messages every day, and Tony visits him semi-regularly. Just a couple of weeks earlier Steve had come home from a run to find an irrigation system in his garden, and considering how small their back yard is, it’s totally going overboard, but he appreciated the gesture anyway.

“Bring dinner when you get back?” Steve asks, and Bucky nods.

Steve has a sudden urge to step forward, to go to Bucky, and he doesn’t quite know what else. There’s nothing unusual about their exchange, and Bucky’s already turning away, but it feels like there’s something missing. Steve can’t tell what it is, though.

Bucky lets his steps make noise as he goes, and Steve listens to him, hears the door go, and the silence settles inside the house, immediately different now that he’s alone.

Steve hasn’t moved since Bucky left the room, and he shakes his head and goes to the table where he has one of the sheets of paper Bucky brought for him from Japan stretched and dried, ready for painting. It’s the first one he’s going to use.

Steve has been messing around with watercolors lately, since they feel the right way of using the paper, and he’s finally confident enough to really go for it. He’s still more familiar with oils, pencils and charcoals, but he likes trying new methods. Maybe he should try ink too one of these days.

In a few minutes he has everything he needs at hand, coming to the defining moment, the first touch of paint on the paper. In the end, he doesn’t even pause to think of what to paint, the story he remembers Bucky reading to Becca long before the war comes to his mind and he’s off. He uses small brushes for all the intricate details in his mind, and the images on the paper flow into one another; a garden where flowers wear silver bells, a clockwork bird encrusted in jewels, a personification of death, and a nightingale, singing both to an emperor and a poor little girl alike.

He’s just finished the work when he hears Bucky coming back in, and Steve waits for him to come up. Bucky looks at the painting for a moment, tilting his head, remembering, Steve thinks.

“Do you still want to illustrate stories? Didn’t you sometimes envision doing it?” Bucky asks.

“I did. It seemed like a way to actually make some money with art, a practical way, because honestly I didn’t have much of a chance to ever show at galleries, not with how poor I was. And I liked to do it. Now though, it’s more like with everything else, I don’t need to worry about money, so I do it if I feel like it.”

It is still unreal to Steve how they really can live like this now, not having to worry about making ends meet. Of course, it comes with a host of other worries, and there have been many days when he’s thought that it would have been better if the war hadn’t happened, if he’d just lived his life through, however long or short it would have been. Still, he’s grateful too that after everything they’ve been through they’ve managed to make it here, into this relatively peaceful life, at least for now.

***

After dinner they sit on the terrace drinking beers. The day has been uncomfortably hot, and Steve has again in his mind thanked the existence of modern air conditioning. He remembers sweltering summer days in Brooklyn before the war, when it was so hot he was exhausted all the time, when the heat didn’t go down during the night either, meaning he couldn’t really sleep. These days he can take the heat a lot better, but it doesn’t mean he’d want to suffer with it.

Still, it’s nice to enjoy the residual heat of the day when he knows he can get inside and be comfortable, that he’ll get to sleep in the cool darkness of his room. Bucky’s reclining at the end of the couch that gets the most sun, his left arm glinting, whole body relaxed. It’s Steve’s favorite thing these days, seeing Bucky so comfortable, clearly at ease and content.

Steve lets his gaze rest on Bucky, and he too is content, feels himself relaxing into the moment. It’s shattered by the text alert from his phone, and it’s a habit these days to immediately pick it up. The message is from Natasha.

_ Since you’re single now, I know someone who’d be interested in going out with you. _

A few seconds later,  _ I’m pretty sure you’d like her. _

Steve immediately texts back he’s not interested, no matter who it is. And it’s true. It just doesn’t feel like the right moment, he has no intention of getting into a relationship any time soon. It’s not that he’s still hung up on what happened between him and Sharon, because he isn’t. Frankly he never was, since it came to such a natural ending that suited both of them. It’s just that in general even the idea of trying to get to know someone new feels exhausting, and besides, he’s barely gotten his life in order as it is now. He has no need to shake it up, he likes what he has.

Nat has a follow up though,  _ Since you’re taking a break now would be a good time. _

_ You’re not the kind of a person that’s been built to be alone, _ she adds, and that’s the part that stings.

Steve puts the phone away, and there are no more messages, Nat probably knows he’s bristling. The content atmosphere of the evening is shattered for Steve, because what she said is true, more or less. Steve does want to find someone, a companion in life, and she’s right also about the practical end of things. Since he’s not as busy as he was when he was leading the Avengers, now would be a good time, but people aren’t quite that practical in reality.

He knows he’s scowling at the general state of things when his eyes land on Bucky, who’s peering at him through the slit of his eyelids. “What is it?” Bucky asks.

“Nothing,” Steve says, even though he knows it’s futile, Bucky knows something has unsettled him, and now that they’ve found their ease around each other again, Bucky’s not letting Steve get away with these kinds of things.

Predictably, Bucky gives him an unimpressed look. “Yeah, you know that’s not going to fly.”

Steve opens his mouth to explain, but doesn’t really have the words for what he wants to say, there are too many things in his head, so he pulls out his phone and shows Bucky his discussion with Nat.

Bucky reads it and sits up as he does, the earlier relaxation gone from his posture. “It’s not like she’s wrong.”

“I know. I do. But it’s just, I don’t know, doesn’t feel right,” Steve admits.

Bucky chews at his lip. “But really, when does it ever? I mean, not like it was the most opportune moment when you met Peggy. Sometimes you just meet the right person, and that’s it.” He gives Steve a smile that seems strangely strained.

It’s true though, what Bucky says, because one might say it had been exactly the wrong moment that Steve had met Peggy, but it hadn’t mattered, they’d still been it for each other. It just feels unlikely that something like it would happen again.

“It’s just, it was easy then, because she had no previous ideas about what I should be like. Now every time I meet someone new it feels like they already think they know me.”

Bucky nods, and Steve knows he understands, after all this is much the same discussion they had regarding the shield. Preconceptions all around him, and often it feels like there’s nothing Steve can do to escape them.

“Besides,” Steve continues, “even though it’s quiet now, I can’t pretend my life will always be like that. And mixing someone up in it, I don’t know.”

Bucky looks at him for a long moment. “Well, you have to decide what you can or can’t do. But Steve, you know you deserve to be happy, that’s why Natasha’s so insistent. And there are uncertainties in the lives of even the most regular people, not just ours, and it’s not a reason to draw completely away.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Steve agrees, mulling it over. “What about you? Have you thought of finding someone?”

Bucky barks out a laugh. “No, not really. I mean, just my nightmares are violent enough that it seems too much of a risk to mix someone in it.”

They stay out for a bit longer, but the comfortable mood is shattered, and soon enough Bucky heads in. The talk they had was very open, and yet Steve can’t help but feel like there’s a new barrier between them, even though he can’t really pinpoint why.

***

The day ends at an odd note, and Steve can’t help but hope that it’s not going to linger. The messages from Nat have gotten him to think more broadly of what he wants, aspects that he hasn’t so far considered.

It all has come gradually. When he first decided he needed to take a break, he didn’t know how he would go about it, and for a while it had been just an idea. Then Bucky had been woken up, had been supportive of the decision, and Steve had grabbed it with all he had. Now he wonders if he’s using Bucky as a crutch once again, since he can’t get by on his own.

Truth is though, Bucky said decades earlier that he didn’t have to try, and even if they haven’t really talked about it now in the new millennium, Steve knows it’s still true, that one moment is still a focal truth in their lives. It’s the only explanation to why saying the words shook Bucky out of his conditioning. Neither of them has to try to make it on their own, and while Bucky’s presence helps Steve, he also knows that it goes both ways. Day by day he sees Bucky doing better, and it’s what convinces him that it was the right choice to settle down to live together.

Still, it means that if he indeed ends up seeking out a relationship, their living arrangement might complicate things, not the least because Steve doesn’t want things to change, as they would if he found someone to be serious with enough to live together. As things are now, they very much live in each other’s space with Bucky, for all that they have a big house. Besides, he is very content now, more than he ever has been, and he doesn’t feel the need for additional companionship, something more than his friends can provide.

There is something to be considered, though, he admits to himself when he is in the shower. Truth is, he craves physical intimacy, and as the few attempts have shown him, he can’t really do casual, it just doesn’t work for him. So maybe he should look into dating after all, considering he still most often jerks off to thoughts of Peggy, which can definitely be considered him hanging onto past.

Steve shakes his head, methodically cleaning himself and nothing else that night. It all suddenly feels almost too complicated, a complete contrast to the simple happiness he felt in the morning when they took the run with Bucky. He has no idea how to proceed, but it’s not like he has to decide it right now. Steve pushes all the thoughts away from his head, and actually manages to fall asleep soon after he’s settled in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chronologically the next chapter is in Bucky’s side of story, [here is a direct link to it](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10590288/chapters/26522523).


	3. September 4th 2017

Steve is on his morning run in Queens when he spots a red and blue figure sitting on the edge of the roof of the building just ahead. He actually hasn’t talked to the kid since the airport, even if he’s heard about his exploits through Tony, but he’d like to, so he heads to a deli in the corner and gets two sandwiches.

It’s easy enough getting to the roof, there’s a fire escape coming down to the alley at the side of the building. First thing he decides is the kid needs to improve his situational awareness, since he doesn’t notice Steve right behind him, just seems concentrated in staring into the air. Maybe it’s a blessing, Steve thinks, that despite his superpowers he can still be carefree enough to not be on edge and alert all the time.

“You’re up early,” he says, and the kid jumps, startled, but at least he doesn’t run away.

“Who—?” the kid starts before it clearly clicks. “Oh, Captain America, sir. Didn’t recognize you with the, you know.” He gestures at Steve’s beard.

“That’s half the idea. And it’s just Steve now, I’m taking a break.”

“Are you here to ask me to be an Avenger? Because I told Mr. Stark already I’m happy here.”

“No, I just thought you might want a sandwich.” Steve hands one out and starts to unwrap the other.

The kid digs in ravenously, reminding Steve of Bucky as a teenager. He’d been too sick himself to have much of an appetite at all, but there were times when it seemed Bucky basically inhaled anything and everything put in front of him.

“I’m Peter,” the kid says between bites, clearly more relaxed. “So, what if Captain America is needed?”

“There is a Captain America, my friend Bucky has the shield now. So he’ll go when the Avengers require it. And if there’s some big crisis, I’ll be on duty too. I just needed to get away from it for a while.” Steve looks into the horizon, then smiles at Peter. “It’s one of the hardest things, to recognize you may have to hang back, that you need to rest to be the best version of yourself you can be. And I can still help, I’ve been volunteering in some community projects, especially at Coney Island.”

“Oh. Sorry about that, trashing your beach.” Peter looks dejected, even when he should objectively know he prevented a much bigger disaster.

“Not your fault. You did good, Tony told me. And I think you did the right thing by not taking up an official position with the Avengers. You’d be much more under the scrutiny there, this way you can grow into it without too many external expectations. Trust your instincts, and be honest with yourself, it’ll work out.”

They finish their sandwiches in silence.

“So, since there’s new Captain America, is he going to do new versions of those educational videos?”

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “I doubt anyone could drag Bucky in to do that. Back after the Battle of New York they decided the Avengers needed to be seen more as role models, needed some good press, and apparently I was the one that was the most believable. Or at least perceived so, in truth I never was much of a role model in the way those videos portray it, neither before the war or after the serum. I’m kind of living in apprehension of the day Bucky happens upon them on Youtube.” Steve grimaces, although he knows Bucky would find it funny, which in itself would be a good thing.

“Can I ask a question?” Peter seems to have moved on a new track already.

“You’ve been asking questions already, but go ahead, it’s not like it’ll be worse than those videos.”

“Mr. Stark said you could have beaten me far worse than you did, if you’d wanted to, back in Germany.” He sounds hesitant, as if he’s having a hard time believing it.

Steve looks into the horizon.

“Well, I’m sure you know you’re stronger and faster than me?” When Peter nods, Steve continues. “That’s a big thing, but I’ve got training and experience which you still don’t, and that counts for a lot. Also, when it really come to it, I’m willing to go a lot further than you, war will do that to you. And precisely because of that, I try to always keep in mind that I should only use as much force as appropriate. Although I admit it’s not always easy. On that airport all I needed was to stop you, and I knew you were strong enough to handle the bridge, from how you moved. It’s mostly about observing and finding an opening.”

“Does it worry you, going against people stronger than you?”

Steve laughs. “Not really. I mean, I’m pretty used to it. Before the war, ever since my childhood I used to get into a lot of fights, and back then everyone was stronger than me. Didn’t stop me from getting up if I thought they deserved getting punched.”

“So did you win back then?”

“Sometimes, but not that often, no. Mostly Bucky bailed me out. Now though, I’m strong enough that I can take the hits and still stand up to use what I know, and it’ll take me a long way.”

“It was one of the reasons why I considered being an Avenger, to learn more. Because I know at some point it’s not enough to be just strong. But it would have meant leaving my home, and the neighborhood.”

Steve looks at Peter for a second, wonders if he’s butting in, since Tony has taken the kid under his wing, but decides to go for it anyway. Peter definitely needs to learn to rely on more than just his superpowers. He pulls out his phone.

“Give me your number. If you want to learn, I can give you some pointers on techniques that have nothing to do with you powers, and you can then extrapolate from there. I’ll find a space for us and we’ll sort out our schedules.”

“For real? Great.” Peter is clearly excited.

They talk for a bit more, about how Tony tends to go overboard with everything, apparently including the spider suit which has a lot more tech than one would expect. Then there is a purse snatching nearby, Peter swings away to deal with it, and Steve heads back.

***

Steve comes home to find Bucky’s keys on the desk by the front door and his gear bag leaning to the wall just inside. He smiles, happy to have Bucky there, noting he must have been exhausted when he came in, since he usually takes the weapons to the safe in the basement instead of leaving them lying around.

Bucky hasn’t made it up the stairs either; Steve finds him asleep on the couch in the living room, face planted into the cushions, three wrappers of protein bars and an empty water bottle on the table, still in his travel clothes, including a jacket. At least he’s gotten his boots off. He doesn’t wake up, even with Steve lingering at the doorway. 

It means everything to be trusted so well.

It hits him so unexpectedly that it’s like being sucker punched right in the middle of the sternum. Steve stands there and suddenly he knows he loves Bucky.

It’s not the stoic brotherly ideal that books and documents about them like to drone on and on about, in a way that tends to annoy Steve, since it doesn’t come even close to explaining what Bucky means to him. It’s not the desperate, all consuming love centered on how Bucky is, has been, and always will be the most important person in his life. That’s nothing new, that love sits in his heart comfortable like a well worn boot.

Instead it’s the kind of love that makes him want to map every inch of Bucky’s skin with his mouth, and it takes him completely by surprise, because it’s never been like that before. Only suddenly he doesn’t know if it’s really new, or if some part of him wouldn’t let him think of Bucky in those terms before, for fear of being abandoned. If his subconsciousness was protecting him so well he didn’t even know it himself.

Steve blinks at the sleeping form of Bucky, it feels like everything has suddenly been turned upside down and it seems impossible that Bucky hasn’t even moved. After a moment he goes down to the kitchen, deciding to make them breakfast, since one sandwich won’t take him very far into the day, and Bucky could probably do with some real food. He makes a generous amount of scrambled eggs with bacon and toast on the side, and as he expected, when the food is ready Bucky shuffles into the room and plops down at the bar. Steve’s greeting is probably strained, but he’s lucky in that Bucky is still more than half asleep and doesn’t notice anything, or if he notices he doesn’t have the energy to tackle it.

Steve plates the food, pours them glasses of orange juice and they dig in. They don’t talk, which Steve counts as yet another blessing, and it isn’t awkward either, even though Steve is right in a middle of a mental upheaval. All things considered, it’s not really that his feelings toward Bucky have changed, it’s just his knowledge of them, what he is willing to admit to himself that has. What they are to each other is still the same, still the oldest thing Steve knows.

It’s because of this knowledge that Steve doesn’t hesitate to gently urge Bucky to go upstairs to get some more sleep he clearly needs. There’s something in him wanting to insist that all touch should now be different, but Steve refuses to let it take over, and physically pushes Bucky on his way as he would have the last time they were together, before his epiphany.

He clears the dishes into the washer, scrubs the frying pan clean at the sink, settling into his skin bit by bit, listening to the water in the pipes as Bucky takes a shower. He picks up his phone, reads the usual post-mission greetings and status reports from Natasha and Sam, lingers staring at the thread of conversation with Nat, considering if he wants to open up about this, but decides not to, not yet anyway. He wants to work on it by himself first.

***

Steve goes to the studio; the sudden reorganization is still taking place in his head, and the bright room feels like the safest place to deal with it. It’s where he goes to think these days, especially when he needs to work through something more complicated or taxing. It’s not that rare for him to have to take a refuge there, and it helps to have a designated space for it. Thinking back, he’s not sure now how he managed before when he didn’t have a place where he felt settled enough to allow his thoughts reign free.

In truth, he does know how he managed. Not well at all. He just didn’t realize it back then.

The room is full of half finished paintings, as well as those that are done but that still need something, a companion piece maybe. Maybe a whole series. He has a lot of time to dedicate to his art now, and the amount of finished works steadily grows, and mostly he doesn’t really know what to do with them. He’s given some of the watercolors away to his friends, even to be sold for charity, but the oil paintings he has kept, for now anyway.

There’s no art on their walls yet, but Steve thinks he’s getting more ready for that, to choose some of his own pieces to hang on the walls. Sometimes Bucky looks through his work with a considering air, and Steve suspects he too is thinking of what they should put on display. They haven’t talked about it yet. 

Steve has done more portraits after Wanda’s, both from life and from memory, but he thinks they won’t end up on display at their house. Instead he’s probably going to give most of them away as gifts.

There is even a portrait on the easel now, one of Peggy that only needs the finishing touches. While working on it Steve has finally dealt with the grief he’s carried in his heart ever since her passing. It’s not gone, and he knows it’ll probably be a part of him for the rest of his days, the ache intertwined with her memory, but he’s come to a point where he can think of her without feeling like he’s about to split open. He can truly remember instead of having to keep all of her locked away in his mind.

He takes out his paints and brushes and gets to work; making her eyes luminous like he remembers them, highlighting her hair, defining the curve of her cheek. 

He thinks back to meeting her, the instant impression she made, the way he immediately respected her, and also the way he was attracted to her straight away. Both the respect and attraction had grown every day he spent in basic, strengthened and become a dream that most of the time had felt unattainable. Later, during the long months of war, working together, they’d become true friends too, and the attraction had bloomed and solidified, but it stayed as potential that was never fulfilled. They never took that final step, and in the end they missed their chance. After he woke up from the ice he had to adjust to how she’d moved forward, and during her last years the passion had faded while the true friendship and love had stayed. There had been a time for all different kinds of love toward her, rising and fading, settling in the end to its final form, real and dear.

It’s different now, with Bucky, but then, Steve is starting to think that love always is, there is no pattern that would suit two different situations, two different people. With Bucky it doesn’t feel like it’s changing over time, more that new aspects are added to what’s already there. They were friends first, and that has stayed at the core of it through all the years. Bucky has been the steadfast companion, a support, a protector, a link to the old life, steadiness in the new world. Bucky has been all of these things, and he still is, he is so important to Steve that he can’t fathom how he could ever even begin repaying all of it. He probably can’t.

Now, with this new kind of love, it feels like it would be asking yet another thing of Bucky if he were to let it out, but then again, it would mean giving something of himself too, in an entirely new way. Could it be a fair exchange? Could there be a happy resolution to it all? Steve doesn’t quite dare to hope, at least not yet.

***

Steve is sitting on the window seat, looking at the finished painting of Peggy when Bucky comes up. It’s been a few hours, and he’s properly awake now, eyes bright and alert. Steve shifts to look at Bucky instead of the painting as Bucky pauses in front of it, tilting his head in contemplation.

Steve is getting better at reading Bucky again, often knowing the train of his thoughts from his expressions the way he used to back before the war. After he’d found Bucky at the HYDRA factory there had been a marked change in his friend, and even when they’d been close, there had been new barriers that Steve had found hard to cross. They never had the time to find their way back to where they were fully comfortable and open with each other again before the train, but they’re getting there now, more than seven decades later.

Now with Bucky looking at the portrait of Peggy it is one of those ever rarer moments when Steve has no idea what’s going on in his head. It stems from back during the war, because Steve never was exactly sure of how Bucky felt about Peggy. He does know Bucky respected her, and knew exactly how good she was at her job, which meant they worked well together, as well as with Steve. Bucky was always polite toward her, respectful of her position and even cordial in a more relaxed setting, but Steve always thought there was something under the surface, something keeping Bucky from fully warming up toward her.

Steve might have thought it was residual resentment for being turned down the first time they met at the bar, but he knew well enough Bucky wasn’t the type to hold grudges over something like that, he never had before the few times it happened before the war. It had to be something else, Steve just didn’t know what, and he never wanted to push back then, because he’d known there was something brittle about Bucky, and he didn’t want to cause a break.

He does know that Bucky had been completely sincere and honest just a couple of weeks before the mission to get Zola when he’d told Steve to hold on to Peggy, that they had a good thing and that he shouldn’t let his insecurities get in the way. Bucky had told him Peggy liked him just as much as he liked her, and that he should trust it, should hold onto it even after the war.

Steve has sometimes wondered what kind of a life after war Bucky envisioned, because it wasn’t the only time he spoke of it in context of Steve’s life, but never his own. Steve suspects now that Bucky had believed he’d never make it through. He’d been right, and wrong at the same time, because here they are now, and even though all the wars are not finished, maybe never will be, they still have this personal peace they’ve built.

Looking at them now, Bucky and the painting, it’s extremely obvious to Steve he has a type. They’re not exactly alike, Bucky and Peggy, but similar enough, both capable of kindness and support while not letting people get away with things. They both have the innate will to do good, and the drive to turn that will into action that made them both extremely efficient during the war. HYDRA tried to corrupt that drive in Bucky, but they didn’t manage it. He’s still here, doing what he believes is right and needs to be done, despite all that he’s been through.

Bucky turns toward Steve but doesn’t say anything about the painting, not that Steve expected him to either. His eyebrows draw together as soon as he really takes a look of Steve. It’s not at all surprising that Bucky can tell how unsettled he still feels about the earlier realization.

“What’s wrong? Is it —?” Bucky leaves the question open ended, just gestures at the painting.

“No, it’s, I think I’ve finally made it where the grief doesn’t weigh me down so much. I’m past the worst with it.”

“Then what? Because there is something.”

Years earlier Steve might have tried to pass it off as nothing, but he doesn’t want to now, doesn’t want to hide from Bucky. On the other hand, neither does he want to tell Bucky exactly what’s gotten him so unbalanced. Not yet, anyway.

“It’s nothing bad, I just need to re-adjust in general, I suppose. I don’t know how to explain it.” It’s true enough, Steve really doesn’t know where he even would start. “You don’t need to worry about me.” Steve smiles at Bucky, trying to reassure him. He probably mostly succeeds, since there really is nothing wrong, just new.

Bucky looks at him a few beats more, then shrugs, but Steve knows he’s not letting go in general, just for now, and that Bucky will probably keep an eye on him more closely than usual in the coming days. Steve used to bristle about it before the war, because it felt like Bucky was hovering over him and he didn’t like the feeling, but as with many things, it is different now that he’s spent years thinking Bucky would never come back.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” Bucky takes half a step toward the door.

“No, I think I’m done here,” Steve says, and they head down together.

They end up spending a surprisingly comfortable evening together. It’s raining, and they draw out their Netflix queue, order in some Indian, and curl up in their usual corners on the couch. Steve is happy to find out he doesn’t feel awkward at all in Bucky’s company, can talk and laugh just like before. It’s not that he even spends more time than usual looking at Bucky, he realizes. He’s been looking at Bucky for months now, and maybe it at first was making sure to himself Bucky really was there, but it has gradually moved toward general appreciation. Now he’s just more conscious about it.

He reminds himself again, that it’s not that he really feels any different toward Bucky, there are all the familiar aspects of it left. Only now there’s a new clarity, one that Steve welcomes, even if he doesn’t know what he wants to do about it yet. He intends to actively figure it out, though, since he’s all too conscious of all the lost opportunities in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of pining in this verse is now doubled, Bucky’s not longer alone with it and we are in the delightful realm of mutual pining.
> 
> Chronologically the next chapter is on Bucky’s side of story, [here is a direct link to it](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10590288/chapters/27286272).


	4. October 4th 2017

It takes less time than Steve expects for him to get used to the new clarity on how he feels about Bucky. That by itself is an indication like no other that the feeling isn’t anything new; just the realization and the naming is.

He’s been letting the consciousness stew inside  him, not talking about it to anyone yet. He’d like to say there hasn’t been any outward change in him, but it’s not true, the atmosphere in the house is different now because of him, and he knows Bucky’s aware of it too. Bucky hasn’t pushed, hasn’t asked about what’s on Steve’s mind, trusting his word it’s not something he needs to immediately worry about. Still, Steve knows the situation isn’t sustainable, and the truth has to come out some time, probably sooner rather than later. He knows if it stays hidden it’ll damage their friendship, and it’s the last thing Steve wants. 

For all that he knows this, he hasn’t rushed and told Bucky. He’s needed to really look at it by himself first, and he’s getting to the point where he has it all sorted out in his head. He’s had ample time to do so without distraction, since Bucky, Nat, and Sam have spent most of the previous month on missions, staying away from home several days at a time, coming back for just a night, then rushing off again. Steve’s barely seen Bucky during the last three weeks. It’s been over a week now since their last touch back at home, but Steve knows they’re nearly done with this particular HYDRA group. The last message Steve got two days ago was that they’d be incommunicado for the rest of the mission, so all Steve can do for now is wait.

He worries, the same way he always does, and tries to busy himself with his chores, art, and somewhat regular training sessions with Peter. He is conscious of the fact that the trio could be back later in the day, but he pushes the thought away, doesn’t let himself expect anything, since the missions are not always predictable.

He’s feeling jittery this morning, more than usual, but thinks it’ll probably be cured by his habitual run. He pulls on his exercise clothes, long sleeves since it’s cold in the mornings these days, and he doesn’t particularly enjoy the sensation. Never has. As he dresses, he comes to a decision that it’s probably the time to talk about his feelings for Bucky. He also is secure enough to admit he’s not at all ready to talk about them to the man himself, no matter how much he wants to know whether they’re reciprocated.

He’s at the door, tying up his sneakers when he hears a car pull up at the curb, and it turns out to be Nat in a cab. She’s clearly fuming as she runs up the front stairs, and Steve just lets her in, confused.

“I didn’t know you were back already.” He takes her coat, and only then notices the brace on her wrist. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, it’s just a fracture. And the guys don’t have a scratch on them, they’re still out there tying up the last few strings. There was no need for me to come back early but Sam is an annoying worrywart.”

“That he is.” Steve smiles, trailing after her to the living room. “So it’s almost done?”

“Yeah, no worries,” she says, clearly aware of Steve’s habitual concerns. “They’ll be back in the evening at the latest. They’d better, since I told them if they aren’t here by dinnertime, I’ll come for them and drag you in with me.”

Steve laughs, even though he knows it’s true, if there was even the smallest indication that Bucky and Sam were in trouble, the two of them would be on the way that same instant. “Did you have someone look at your wrist?”

Nat glares at him, not appreciating being worried over, but it’s never deterred Steve. It goes both ways when it comes to the two of them.

“I was at the compound, and they checked it over. It really is just a hairline fracture. But you know I hate the fuss, and there’s nothing but that there. Too many doctors.”

It’s pretty much the reason Steve figured for her presence. “You’re always welcome here.”

By now she’s kicked her boots off and is curled up on the couch. She looks at him then, clearly assessing, and Steve appreciates how she lets him see it, doesn’t hide the scrutiny. Steve knows she can discern a lot about his moods just from his posture, and hence her next suggestion doesn’t surprise him the least bit.

“Go have your run, I’ll be fine here.”

“I’ll bring coffee and pastries back.”

Steve sets out, enjoying the cool air, feeling more settled already. It helps to know that Bucky and Sam will soon be home, and that Nat will heal from her injury without problems. It also feels like more than a coincidence, more like things just arranging themselves for him, since Nat is exactly the person he meant to talk to about Bucky, and now they have a whole day just for themselves.

***

Steve comes back home with a bag of bagels, another of bear claws, and large lattes for the two of them. Nat is still curled up on the couch, even more comfortable than she was when he left, since she’s wearing one of his hoodies, taken from the pile that came from the dryer the day before and that he didn’t have the energy to fold yet. On the coffee table is the small teapot she one time brought and left in their cupboard, and she has the largest mug they own in her hand.

Down in the kitchen he makes them omelettes in addition to what he brought from the bakery since he needs the protein, and they settle in to have the breakfast. He is less jittery than he was before his run, and Nat isn’t fuming quite so much about being sidelined from a mission, so it’s altogether better.

“How do you feel about my current projects?” Steve asks.

He hasn’t yet really shown the studio to Natasha, but he knows she pops in every once in a while to have a look, and he doesn’t mind it at all. They sometimes talk about his paintings, sometimes not, and never to the detail like he talks about them with Bucky. 

“I noticed you have done more fairy tale illustrations. I should tell you some Russian ones, you could paint Baba Yaga.”

“Is she the one with a house with chicken legs and who flies around in a cauldron?”

“It’s a mortar, actually. She uses the pestle to club people with. Close enough, though. How do you know Russian stories anyway?”

“From the war. We went on a couple of missions with Russians, as weird as it nowadays sounds, what with the Cold War and all. Back then we were allies, if not really cordial at first. Anyway, we had some long miserable winter weeks that we spent mostly waiting with them, so we told a lot of stories.”

“What kind of stories did you tell?” She’s clearly curious, her bagel forgotten for a moment.

“I didn’t, really.”

“You don’t have stories that are near and dear?”

“Well, Bucky tried to get me to quote Sun Tzu, he thought it would be funny. I even could do that, but wasn’t ever in the mood. But I do have stories, my mother told me of the Tuatha Dé Danann and others she brought across from Ireland.”

“You haven’t drawn any of those, though.”

Steve pauses, draws a breath to sort out his words. “I used to, when I was younger, but I haven’t since her passing. I still hear her voice in my head when I think of them. Maybe one day I get back to it, but not yet.”

His mother is one of the topics Nat doesn’t really know much about, and he has noted she usually doesn’t ask either, apparently aware it’s painful territory. For all that she’s good at drawing people out of their shells and getting them to tell her their secrets, reveal more than they ever realize, there’s a gentler, protective side to her too, one that doesn’t want to cause undue harm or pain. Steve treasures the moments he gets to see it, because he’s well aware it’s something she’s cultivated for herself since she escaped the Red Room, it’s not something they would have approved of. Compassion would have only gotten in the middle of missions, so it was rooted out as well as they could. Not all of it, and now she’s grasped it with all her might because it’s all hers, part of her continued victory over those who tried to own her.

Both their phones chime with text alerts nearly the same time. Steve reads the message from Bucky, typically curt with just the information that everything is wrapped up and he’ll be back in a few hours. It’s always very telling the way Bucky texts. If he’s relaxed and safe, the messages are lengthy and filled with emojis, but if he’s on mission mode they’re short, sticking to necessary information.

Natasha lets her head drop on the back of the couch, glaring at the ceiling. “Remind me why I decided it was a good idea to get together with Sam?”

“He still haranguing you about the arm?”

Nat glares at him. “What do you think?” 

He snaps a photo of her, getting the remains of their breakfast spread in the frame as well. “Want me to send this to him, as a proof you’re resting?” At her nod Steve send the photo, and gets back one of Bucky standing over a clutch of cowering HYDRA goons. “And you’re with him because he’s got his head and heart in the right place, not to mention they come with a nice package.”

She grins now. “You’ve been looking.”

“Why do you think I stopped talking to him in the first place at the Mall? Annoyed and handsome, just the thing.”

“Is that the guideline for the next person I’m setting you up with?”

The question isn’t exactly unexpected, and a while ago it would have annoyed Steve, but today it serves as a springboard to the conversation he wants to have with her.

“I don’t want just some random person.”

Natasha tilts her head in a way that makes Steve remember the owls he saw in a documentary he watched the day before. Again, she’s not hiding the way she’s assessing him, and he looks right back, letting her in, not hiding.

“I see. Have you talked to James about it?”

“What do you think?” He throws back her earlier words, although considerably less annoyed.

“Are you going to?”

“Yes, eventually. I just need to sort it out in my head, I’m still not ready to tell him.” He sees her nod, just taking it in and not at all surprised. “Is this where you tell me you knew all along how I felt about him, you were just waiting for me to realize?”

She grins at him. “No. I mean, I always thought there was the possibility of you tipping into it, but it wasn’t a done thing. I think if you’d met someone over the last few years and really hit off with them, you would still look at James as a friend. Love’s not singular, as you know. And I know this doesn’t really add to how important he is to you.”

“Couldn’t add to it,” Steve says. “It feels like there always was a part of me that was going to fall in love with him, but it’s only now I’ve let it happen. Not that it was a decision, one day I just realized it was the truth.”

“Yeah, that’s the way it goes. Are you hesitating with the telling because you worry about his reaction?”

“It’s not about that.” Steve pauses, gathering his thoughts. “It’s not really about his answer, I just want him to know, even if he were to not reciprocate. Maybe it’s selfish, might be easier for him in that case to not know. But I want to tell him. Then we go from there. I know it won’t break us, that much I’m sure of.”

“Okay.” She reaches out to pat his shin stretched out along the couch. “It’s not wrong to want that, to want the certainty. Just don’t wait too long, you have a bad history with it.”

“I know. Believe me, I do. I’m going to get to it.”

Steve likes these kinds of talks with Natasha, she’s supportive and has good advice, but she knows restraint too, knows when to allow him to work through the problem and just be there for him. Once again Steve is grateful for her friendship, and all he can hope is he can repay it at least somewhat. He thinks he must be getting at least something right, since she chose to come to him with her injury, instead of just going home.

“I notice you’re very much avoiding asking me about how he feels,” Nat says.

“I am, kind of. I don’t think it would be fair, if you were to tell me. And it’s not like I’m completely unsure either.”

Steve ends up telling her how he’s noticed Bucky not shying away from the new kind of physical closeness that Steve has tentatively introduced to their relationship. Also there’s the way Bucky looks at him. There’s nothing new about it really, he remembers similar looks from way back before the war. The difference now is that Bucky doesn’t really try to hide them anymore. Maybe he too is feeling bolder here in the future.

***

They end up at the studio, for the first time together. Not that they take a tour, Steve goes up since he feels like painting and she comes for quiet company, curling up on the window seat with her book. They pass a couple of hours, the discussion they had earlier settling between them, the knowledge comforting. Steve feels lighter now that he has opened up to her.

Steve surfaces from the concentration, the painting almost finished. He steps backward to consider it, to see if the perspective works, and checks the time. Bucky and Sam should be back in less than an hour. Natasha has let her book fall on her lap, and she’s looking at the painting too. Steve wonders if she understands the moment it depicts, if she knows the reason for the unusual perspective of the ravine. He wonders if it’s anything as unsettling to other people as it is to him, if his heartache is visible in the simple landscape.

He could say nothing and she wouldn’t ask, he’s sure of it. But maybe it’s just the right kind of a day, because he finds himself talking about the incident he avoids even thinking of unless he has to.

“This is what I saw from the train.”

He doesn’t elaborate, Natasha should know well enough that there’s only one thing he could be talking about. She comes to stand right next to him, and Steve looks at the painting again, feels the wind stinging his eyes, freezing the tears on his cheeks as he looks back, hanging from the edge of the train, Bucky nowhere to be seen anymore.

“Were there some kind of strange clouds? I can’t figure out how you’d get colors like that in the mountains in winter.”

Natasha’s question is something that not many people would ask knowing the meaning of the painting, but Steve feels strangely relieved by it, how she goes for the technical side instead of the soul of it. It’s still something that’s raw, everything about that day is, but the question skirts at the edges where Steve can stand, where he can still talk about it. It’s probably the reason the asked that particular question.

“It was a normal sort of cloudy winter day. The reason for the odd coloring is that a HYDRA gun had been discharged just before. It was such a brilliant blue that right after everything seemed leached of that color, bringing out the browns, yellows, and reds more.”

They’re quiet once more, Natasha leaning a bit closer, her warmth comforting next to him.

“They taught us ballet at the Red Room.” She doesn’t look at Steve as she speaks, gaze directed straight ahead but she’s seeing something other than Steve’s studio. “It made sense for two reasons. First, posing as a ballet school made it possible for them to hide in plain sight, and secondly, it’s very good for discipline. And truth be told, I liked the dancing. Still do, despite the reasons why I was made to learn.”

She doesn’t say anything else, and he doesn’t pry. Natasha doesn’t talk about her past in the Red Room, not ever, and he takes this show of confidence for the treasure it is, knowing they’re again closer to each other than they were just the previous day, their friendship having gained another thread of strength.

It’s then they hear the front door open, and Bucky and Sam’s voices drifting up. It breaks a spell, lifts the mood, and Nat smiles at Steve, pats his arm, and they head down.

They first see Sam, heading toward the couch, visibly limping. The earlier irritation that had mellowed over the day is evident in Natasha’s voice. “What happened?”

“It’s just a sprain, nothing to worry about.”

“And I only have a hairline fracture that apparently required me to be coddled to within an inch of my life,” Natasha fires back and Sam has the grace to look sheepish, although not at all regretful.

Bucky bounds up the stairs from kitchen three at a time; he must have been putting his gear away in the basement. There are no signs of injury on him, and mirth is dancing in his eyes. Steve’s heart constricts at the sight of him.

“You better tell them what happened, Sam, or I will.”

For a moment they stare at each other, Sam putting on his most stubborn expression, Bucky starting to crack up. Nat is the one to break the silence. “Spill.”

Sam still says nothing, so Bucky tells them, “He misstepped off the ramp when we were coming out of the quinjet at the hangar.”

Steve tries not to laugh, but he’s not at all successful, the idea of them living so dangerously and the injury having come from such a normal thing is all too hilarious to him. It’s also relief coming to surface with the laughter, all three of them are again safe at home. In the end they’re all laughing in a heap on the couch, not that much for the mishap anymore but just in general.

“Go shower, you two reek,” Natasha says when they’ve all calmed down, and pushes at Sam.

While Sam and Bucky get clean and changed Steve and Nat discuss food, and end up ordering enough Mexican for a small army. After the meal Steve goes back to the studio while the rest of them go to the library on Bucky’s floor to recap the mission. 

In the early days the group mostly did the prep and debrief somewhere other than at their house, probably noticing it was too weird for Steve. Back then he felt both guilty for taking a break, as well as strangely left out, despite it being his own choice. It hadn’t been that rational, but Steve learned a long time ago that feelings often aren’t. These days he’s gotten used to it, settled into his gap year, as Tony calls it, or however long it’ll take. Steve suspects a year isn’t a bad estimate at all, he knows eventually he’ll go back to being active with the Avengers. He thinks he’s no longer capable of staying permanently away. Still, even knowing that he can take a break is a good thing, there was a time when he wouldn’t even have thought about it. Now he’s secure in the knowledge that even when he gets back to the Avengers, he can take time off when he needs to.

It’s getting too dark already to paint, so Steve rearranges some of his things, soaks and stretches a few sheets of paper on boards so that they’ll be ready to paint on later. He’s just done tidying away the paper cuttings and pieces of tape when Sam comes up. He stops in front of the new painting still on the easel.

“How are the nightmares?”

Sam does these checks every once in a while, Steve thinks he doesn’t always even notice taking up the topic, it’s so ingrained in him. He’s always very clear about not being a therapist to his friends, but his job as a peer support specialist in VA has become so much a habit that it’s really a second nature for him to keep checking in on everyone.

“They’ve been about the same recently,” Steve tells Sam. “On the other hand, I generally do sleep better, the non-nightmare related staying awake has lessened.”

“Bucky told me the two of you have agreed to wake each other up if you have severe nightmares and can’t go back to sleep. Are you sticking to that?”

“Yeah, we are pretty well, I think. And it helps in general, to not have to worry.”

“Yeah, less staying awake wondering what’s going on in each other’s heads. Who knew talking about it would actually help.” Sam grins at Steve, who punches him lightly on the arm.

“Yeah, try and keep the gloating at check.”

They head down soon after, and Natasha and Sam go back to the compound for the night. Steve and Bucky end the night on the couch, watching  _ How It’s Made _ reruns, and talking about the books they’ve been reading recently. They’re sitting side by side, shoulders snug together. It’s more common to them these days, to stay in close contact rather than settling in their own corners of the couch.

Despite having been at home and not doing anything strenuous, Steve ends up being the one who starts nodding first, nearly falling asleep, and Bucky hauls him up and toward the bedroom, his palm warm and reassuring in the middle of Steve’s back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chronologically the next chapter is on Bucky’s side of story, [here's a direct link to it](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10590288/chapters/28023795).


	5. November 4th 2017

Steve tucks his hands into pockets as he walks, the gesture coming more out of habit rather than a need to shelter himself from the cool November air. In fact he welcomes the crisp weather, it helps him wake up properly.

He hasn’t been sleeping that well over the previous month. It has caught him by surprise, even when it probably shouldn’t have, that now that he’s choosing to look into his past and work through the memories that still haunt him, they also come to his dreams more regularly. Sam has told him it was only to be expected during their meets for coffee. They try to go fairly regularly, taking the chance to talk about everything, sometimes about heavy things, other times about what they see from the coffee shop windows. Steve always feels grounded with Sam, has come to trust and rely on him.

It’s probably been more nights than not over the last month that he’s woken up due to nightmares, and as they agreed he has always woken Bucky up. After a while, when it was clear it wasn’t just a bad week but a longer period of restless sleeping, he’d considered not going to Bucky every time. After all, Steve is the only one of them that has no set responsibilities currently, Bucky has his duties as a newly minted Avenger as well as his more private quest against HYDRA. Bucky still knows him, had guessed what he was considering, and had in no uncertain terms told him not to stay awake alone, and reminded Steve he’d be able to tell in the mornings anyway.

Steve has kept the promise, albeit as a compromise to ensure Bucky stays sharp enough for training and missions, they’ve fallen into a pattern where Bucky usually goes back to sleep, and Steve stays with him, sitting on the other half of the bed under the spare blanket, reading or sketching or spiraling down Wikipedia. It’s easier like that; even when Bucky’s asleep Steve doesn’t feel lonely, and the nightmares fade from his mind instead of festering like they used to do when he lay awake alone before their agreement. Sometimes he even manages to fall asleep again there next to Bucky.

He knows their behavior is something that for a lot of people would be a big deal, a sign of more than just friendship, and it even could be if they let it, he thinks, but neither one of them takes it like that for all that Steve wants to be more than friends. It’s yet another manifestation of looking after each other that’s familiar from decades ago; sleeping next to each other isn’t new at all for them. It got very familiar during the cold winters of the war.

Even now that Steve has sorted out his feelings for Bucky, that he now knows exactly what it means when he acknowledges to himself he loves Bucky, this part is simple, familiar. He has to admit, though, that he finds the way Bucky tends to curl toward him more adorable than he used to.

The recurring nightmares, despite the fact he’s managing them now with help much better than he did right after he woke up in the future, are still taking their toll on him. The most obvious result besides not sleeping is he spends a lot less time in the studio, and even when he goes there, about half the time he gets nothing done. He’s already painted the things weighing in his head, but right now he can’t quite find inspiration for anything else. He often ends up doing technical exercises just to keep his skills ready, but his creativity has definitely taken a dip.

Instead he takes walks, in addition to his usual morning runs. The walks are slow, he puts on a hat and with his beard he generally doesn’t get recognized when he just lets himself be swallowed by the city. He stays out for hours sometimes, popping in cafes for snacks whenever he gets hungry. Sometimes Bucky comes with him but mostly he goes alone, even though Bucky hasn’t spent any nights away since his first official mission with the Avengers almost a month earlier, he’s still working. He trains and sifts through the reports on HYDRA, which means he goes to the Compound for at least a couple of days every week week, and works from home on all other weekdays. They at least try to keep weekends free during a quiet period like this.

Today Bucky’s away again, the Avengers have a training day that the whole group is taking part in, and Steve is walking alone. He’s comfortably immersed in the bustle of the city around him, it’s Saturday and a lot of people are going about on their errands. He lets the ambiance quiet his mind and finds it easy to concentrate on just what’s around him instead of the things that haunt his mind.

He’s walking down Flushing, just passing the Navy Yard when there’s a sound of grinding metal and crumpling stone, and  _ something _ rises from one of the industrial buildings, bursts right through the roof and ambles forward without a care that there’s a wall in front of it. It’s made of metal and large enough that its shape is difficult to decipher, but it doesn’t much matter what it is as it moves toward the people on the street.

Steve pulls out his phone and types the code that’s basically an Avengers panic button before rushing to help people get out of the way. It’s a tricky situation, the robot is much too large for him to have any effect on it even if he were to take it head on, and since it can go through buildings without trouble it’s almost impossible to guide people to any reliable shelters. A subway station would probably work, but the nearest is several blocks away and no help now.

He notes the robot doesn’t seem to be very targeted, the movement makes no sense, and he suspects it may have gone rogue rather than being controlled, but it’s bad enough as is. He keeps trying to help the best he can, pulling people to safety, shielding them from debris, and just trying to herd those too stunned to run to get away from underfoot. The robot crashes into a building and totters into another direction, back toward the Navy Yard which is much better, the industrial area isn’t too crowded since it’s weekend.

There’s a flash of red in the sky, the Iron Man coming to rescue, and it’s sooner than Steve expected the trip from the Compound to take, but better sooner than later. There’s Vision too, and a quinjet right at their tail, and he turns toward the debris of the broken building. The Avengers will take care of the robot, they’re already herding it toward the river away from people, and Steve will be needed more here, helping those who have been trapped.

The first emergency responders make it to the scene as well, and all Steve has to do to make them believe he is who he says is to lift a slab of concrete way too big to be moved by a non-enhanced person. His left side tinges as he moves the load, he remembers taking a hit there earlier. His ribs are bruised at the very least, but he ignores the pain for now. He gets into the rhythm, working together with the firemen to get the trapped people out, shifting debris and carrying those who need care to paramedics. After a while the sound of the battle quiets down and Steve hears from a police radio nearby that the robot is down.

There are still people trapped, and Steve continues the work until they’ve inspected the whole of the broken area, finally making their way to a young woman and a little girl in a corner near the back. They’re not badly hurt, just bruises and bumps, and a lot of cement dust on them. Steve carries the little girl away from the debris, and she’s remarkably calm about it all when he takes them to the area where paramedics are checking up everyone affected even if they don’t have obvious injuries.

“You’re Captain America,” the girl says as Steve wraps a blanket on her shoulders.

“I was, but not anymore.”

“Why?”

“Anya, it’s not polite to ask questions like that,” says the woman, Steve’s not sure if she Anya’s mother or sister, she’s young enough it could be either. The familial resemblance is obvious though.

Steve smiles at them. “It’s okay. You can call me Steve.”

Steve shakes hands with Anya and Felicia, who turns out indeed to be a big sister. Steve gets them all drinks to help with the dust, and waits for the paramedics to make their way to them.

“You see,” he explains to Anya, “sometimes things people go through leave marks on them, not something you can see, but inside. It’s fairly common with soldiers like me, and sometimes it means having to step back, taking a break, even if it’s hard. So I’m on a break from Avengers, trying to do other things to help.”

She nods, her little face serious. “Our sister Leona was a soldier, and she has nightmares. Do you have them too?”

“Yeah, I do, and it’s not fun, but I have help from my friends.”

“Leona says we help her. And Maximilian.”

“Her service dog,” Felicia interjects, picking out the bits of concrete from Anya’s black curls.

“Good. I’m glad to hear she’s got help.”

“Do you have a dog? Leona says Max helps her if she wakes up in the middle of the night, so she doesn’t have to be alone.”

“No, but I live with my friend Bucky, and we have a deal that if one of us has nightmares we wake the other up so we’re never alone.”

Right then Steve hears a somewhat frantic call of his name from the side, and as he rises from the crouch he sees Bucky jogging to him in his uniform. Redwing is flying above him, but it takes off just as Steve stands up. Bucky looks like he’s about to hug him, and it would be welcome if not for his ribs, so Steve raises his hand.

“Don’t squeeze me, my side is kind of banged up. It’ll be fine soon, though.”

“The emergency beacon on your phone went dead when we were on the way,” Bucky says, which explains how rattled he is.

Steve checks, and apparently his phone got smashed during the fray, probably at the same time his ribs took a hit. “I’m fine though, don’t worry. Were there any problems with the robot?”

“No, seems like it just got out of control, no intention to cause harm on anyone. Now, anyway. Mostly the size was a problem, there was nothing intelligent about it.”

“Are you Captain America?” Anya pipes up, her eyes huge.

“Sure he is,” Steve says, since Bucky seems to be taken aback by the question, only now realizing people are definitely staring at him, what with the uniform and the shield on his back. “But you can call him Bucky-Cap if you want. Buck, this is Anya and Felicia.”

Bucky throws a dirty look at him before greeting them properly, and Steve just grins. He well knows Sam has taken to referring to Bucky like that, and that it’s a source of constant irritation. 

Soon after they make themselves scarce, mostly because the press on site see them and they don’t want the work of paramedics and firemen made any more difficult due to their presence. They head for the quinjet, and predictably it takes quite a lot of time to greet everyone. At least the situation seems to be under control, the robot was a brainchild of one megalomaniac and not an attack by any particular group. 

The short response time is explained too, they’d been doing a rescue practice with the coast guard near the south end of Staten Island, which cut down the distance to travel for everyone’s benefit.

Finally they just catch a cab home, everyone deciding debriefs can be done later. 

***

First thing they do at home is make a mountain of sandwiches, because they’re both starving after action. Or more precisely, Bucky makes them while Steve sits at the bar because apparently he’s sufficiently more injured than Bucky. Steve could help just fine, but he can tell Bucky is rattled, and if Steve taking it easy helps him settle, it doesn’t really cost anything.

They munch on the sandwiches and drink a six pack of beer to go along with them, not that it does anything but it’s something that brings memories, mostly even good. Steve still doesn’t know how Dugan managed it, but he always had something with him for a post mission celebration, be it a flask of brandy at his hip or beer scavenged from rubble. They always took a moment with the team, reaffirmed that they were all alive, successful for yet another day. It had been a ritual up until the mission to get Zola, no one celebrated after that. Steve hopes they did celebrate the end of the war.

Now it’s a whole another age, and here they are, after yet another successful mission, somewhat unintentional on Steve’s part, but it’s familiar and it feels good, he’s satisfied to have been able to help with the rescue effort. Bucky’s still wearing his uniform, all dusty and dirty, the colors very obvious.

“It’s out now, that you’re Captain America.”

Bucky holds his beer bottle in hand, draws a pattern in the condensation. “You know, ever since I agreed to take the shield, I knew one day people would become aware of it. There probably already are hundreds of articles about it, journalists writing think pieces on whether I deserve it, countless people giving their opinions on twitter or whatever. And I’ve tried to prepare for it, but now, I don’t know. I don’t know what to expect.”

Steve wants to take his hand, wants to do something to reassure him, and for all that he’s been pushing at their physical boundaries, he finds he doesn’t know how to go about it now. He does have a bit of experience though.

“I suppose there’s not much use trying to predict it, because it will catch you up by a surprise anyway. Better to just know why you’re doing it, and as long as you do, it doesn’t matter what other people say.”

“I do know why. And I’ve been meaning to tell you, I doubted it when you first presented the shield to me, even though I accepted, but now that I’ve had time to think on it I’m starting to see it, how it can work.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

Bucky quirks his mouth. “I know people will say whatever they want, but I can take it, because it is starting to feel right.”

***

If asked, Steve wouldn’t be able to tell after the fact why exactly it happens that they both end up in his bathroom to clean up, but they do. Bucky checks with gentle hands the bruising on his side and determines that he indeed does have two cracked ribs, but they’re aligned nicely and there’s no need to do anything but wait for them to heal. Steve cleans a cut on the back of Bucky’s shoulder, makes sure there’s no dust in it, and since it’s shallow enough he deems it doesn’t need stitches, butterfly bandages will suffice.

Maybe it’s the general nostalgia that seems to have taken them over, yet another tradition for the two of them was to check on each other after each mission, to make sure neither of them was injured in any serious way. It just happens, and it somehow is the most natural thing in the world for Bucky to not go back to his own bathroom but step with Steve into the shower that’s easily big enough for the two of them.

Bucky offers to clean Steve’s hair after he’s done his own since raising the arm on the injured side isn’t exactly fun even though he can do it. There’s the slightest hesitation when Bucky brings it up, as if he isn’t sure if it’s welcome, so Steve accepts it all the more readily, even when he honestly would have taken it up just to feel Bucky’s hands on him.

It’s an intimate gesture, and not that unfamiliar, Steve knows they were always crossing that line back before the war. The difference now is that then even though the gestures could have been read as more than friendly, they really weren’t because they didn’t think of each other like that. Or Steve didn’t, anyway, he can’t be sure of Bucky. Now every touch is loaded with meaning, and he hopes he’s not alone.

Bucky dips his head back to rinse the suds off, his touch soft and gentle at Steve’s jaw.

“You know, when we first came here, I was kind of hesitant to touch you.”

Steve blinks the water from his eyes and meets Bucky’s. “I noticed.”

“It was because all I could think back then was the helicarriers, how I hurt you that day. It’s still sometimes all I can think about.”

Steve captures Bucky’s hands, both flesh and metal, between his. “It happened, yes, but it’s not something that needs to define you. You’ve done so much good things for me as well. It was your hands at work when you patched me up before and during the war. And it was your hands that pulled me from Potomac. That matters a lot more to me.”

Steve waits, the water still falling on them, Bucky’s hands held in his. Bucky doesn’t say anything for a long time, he’s completely still, staring at his hands as if trying to work out what it all means. That’s when it really strikes Steve how intimate the moment truly is, even when he noted it before he didn’t really feel it, not until now. They’re naked together, the sounds of flowing water drowning the background noise of the city, making the cubicle feel like a bubble of its own, a little universe.

The moment hangs in the air, and Steve almost wants to hold his breath, conscious of the fact they’re at a turning point here. He’s not worried, he knows they’ll be fine whatever happens, he knows they can find the same possibility again even if they end up backing away from it now, but the truth is he doesn’t want to. He’s ready, he suddenly knows, and now it only depends on Bucky.

Bucky finally looks up, and even the last barriers he often hides behind are down. Steve can see it now, can see the hesitation, doubt, and uncertainty, but they’re not all. There’s also trust, and there’s want, and it’s before he’s made a conscious decision to do so that he’s already pulling Bucky toward him. He has to, he wants to dispel all the doubts Bucky might have of whether he wants this.

Bucky lurches toward him, the hesitation falling away like water, and he pulls one of his hands free only to wrap his arm around Steve’s waist. It’s a relief for Steve too, he’s been almost sure he’s not alone with the feelings, but he’s been less sure of whether they can act on them any time soon, since he knows Bucky’s still working to accept he’s allowed to have a happy life. He’s often suspected pushing their relationship into a new area might be too much. Yet the way Bucky clings to him, pulling him close and yet so careful of the bruising on his side tells him all he needs to know, tells him to not hold back.

Steve cradles Bucky’s face in his hands and kisses him. He meant for it to be soft and gentle, he meant to savor the moment, but that intention gets pushed aside in seconds when Bucky nips at his lower lip with his teeth. Steve groans into his mouth, deciding to just let it happen and not think of any of his misgivings. They both need this, he’s absolutely sure of it.

Steve angles his head to deepen the kiss, tangles his fingers in Bucky’s hair and pulls his hip with the other, aligning with his. They’re both hard, and the deliberate pressure goes right into the base of his spine, hot like liquid metal. Bucky sighs against his lips, slides away from the kiss to draw in a shuddering breath, and Steve bends his head to kiss him everywhere he can reach. He pulls just a bit at Bucky’s hair to angle his head and Bucky shivers against him, letting out an appreciative moan. Steve can’t help but smile when he presses his lips over the pulse point on Bucky’s throat. He can feel the vein jumping under the skin, the more insistent beat when he presses his tongue against it.

Steve’s fairly sure it’s purely in retaliation when Bucky pulls at his nipple, fingers finding it unerringly even though he can’t see anything with how Steve still has his head angled. Bucky runs the pad of his thumb over the sensitive skin until the bud is hard as marble. 

Steve shifts his hips, their cocks brush against each other, and Bucky takes it as an invitation, or maybe he’s just reached his limit, because he angles their hips together and takes both their cocks in hand, giving them an insistent tuck. They both shudder then, and Steve rests his forehead on Bucky’s shoulder, overwhelmed by the touch, unlike anything he’s ever felt. Bucky shifts a bit, finding a grip that works, before he starts jerking them off, hand firm around the both of them. Steve knows his fingers at Bucky’s hip are pressing deep into the skin and there will be bruises afterward, but by now he’s got a fairly good idea that Bucky doesn’t exactly mind.

Bucky’s hand is moving at a steady pace, and it’s wonderful but maddening also, Steve needs more, so he raises his head to look at Bucky again. He almost forgets what he was about to say at the sight of Bucky; flush blooming over his cheeks, lips bitten red, and the blue of his eyes darkened, pupils blown wide. Steve just stares at him for a second, until his eyes focus and a mischievous smirk graces his lips.

Steve shakes his head, clearly Bucky’s completely deliberate in trying to drive him mad, and he just angles his head so that their lips brush together. “Just get a move on.”

Bucky laughs, a breathless burst of mirth, but he obeys, doubling his pace, and Steve kisses him again, sloppy and uncoordinated now that they’re succumbing to bliss. He’s nearing the edge finally, hanging on until Bucky shudders and groans against his mouth, cock twitching against his. Only then he lets go and comes.

***

Steve drifts into waking later that evening. Bucky’s still conked out in the bed next to him, metal arm thrown across his waist, face tucked against his ribs on the side that’s not sore. Steve runs his hand over Bucky’s head, through the messy curls that remind him of their youth, how Bucky always had a bit of a hard time with taming them into a neat side part. These days he doesn’t bother so much, he keeps his hair short enough it won’t fall into his eyes, and sometimes uses product if he goes out, but at home he usually just leaves it be.

Steve has caught himself many times nearly reaching out and burying his fingers into the brown locks, but he hasn’t. Even with the way he’s pushed at their physical boundaries, widened them bit by bit, that felt too intimate, too much like a declaration. It’s different now, he can do this, and based on Bucky’s earlier reaction, he’s definitely going to as often as he has a chance. They’re rather past declarations at this point.

Not that they don’t need to talk, because they do. For all that they’ve made it to the point where they can understand a lot of what they want to communicate without saying a word, the words are still important. They solidify what has been communicated, they’ll make everything so much harder to dismiss, make it harder to start doubting.

And as Bucky is these days, Steve knows certainties are important. Bucky will need to hear exactly what he means to Steve, and he wants to tell him. He wants to make it utterly clear that what they have together is everything to him, that this is the most important thing.

He needs to hear it too, he’s not deluding himself of that. He wants the words, wants it concrete, wants to hear Bucky say them. For so many reasons, one of which is that while he’s fairly secure in himself these days, matters of love have never been the easiest to have confidence in for him. It’s easier with Bucky, because Steve has such an implicit trust in him, but it’ll be better once made absolutely clear.

He shifts in the bed, settling down more comfortably. They can have the talk in the morning; for now he’s going to enjoy the closeness, revel in the fact they’ve made it this far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now all they have to do is talk about it, piece of cake, right? :D 
> 
> Also, this is the halfway point of this verse. Probably, I’m a bit tempted to write a bonus part for Steve’s 100th birthday as an epilogue, which would push the mid point into the Nov 10th chapter, but we’ll see how that one goes.
> 
> Chronologically the next chapter is on Bucky’s side of story, [here is a direct link to it](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10590288/chapters/28920303).


	6. December 4th 2017

Steve can feel Sam’s eyes on him, not quite staring, but at least intently assessing, all through the time it takes him to make them mugs of coffee and get settled. Granted, Sam much like Natasha, albeit she’s less obvious about it, always does an evaluation on his state whenever they meet, but this is a much more prolonged scrutiny than usual.

“What?” Steve asks when he starts getting fidgety about it.

“What do you mean?” Sam grins at him, clearly knowing exactly what the question was about and just messing with him. When Steve glares at him he raises his hand, placating, “Just setting a new baseline in my head, for the Steve that’s getting some on the regular.”

Steve adamantly refuses to blush at the comment, even as he can feel the heat threatening to bloom on his cheeks. It’s ridiculous really, he’s an adult and definitely not ashamed about anything to do with his relationship with Bucky. All in all he thinks it’s probably easier now to explain people what they mean to each other. Before now, it was something the words friend or brother didn’t quite cover, something ephemeral and in-between, something more intense. Even now he sometimes thinks there are no words for what Bucky means to him, he’s  _ Bucky, _ it’s the only way he’s ever needed to think about it in his own head, but at least now people won’t underestimate the importance.

Sam’s eyes soften from the mischievous twinkle into a fond smile. “It’s good to see you’re happy. The both of you.”

It’s just the two of them in the house, Bucky and Natasha are on a mission, apparently a boring one judging by the amount of texts Steve’s been getting, and since Sam has no work today Steve invited him over. He also invited Wanda and Sharon for dinner later in the day, it’ll be good to have more people around. He’s been feeling the loneliness a bit more keenly than usual now that Bucky’s away on a longer mission for the first time since they managed to talk about their feelings and really start figuring out where they’re going and what the change means for them.

It’s funny to Steve sometimes, how the change in their relationship means everything to him, and yet not that much has actually changed in practice. These days they start with sleeping in the same bed every night instead of migrating over due to nightmares, and yes, he’s indeed getting some on the regular. Other than that, they’re interacting much like they always were.

“How are the nightmares?” Sam asks then.

“Are you asking about his or mine?”

“Well, considering I’m talking to you, that might give you a hint. Also you’re just stalling now, but okay. How about both?”

Steve can’t help the smile breaking out. “Good. We’ve both slept well after that previous Avenger mission Bucky took. Not perfect, but no major nightmares for either of us.”

“That’s good, expected really.” Sam frowns a bit, clearly thinking.

“Why am I sure you’re about to tell me something not so great?”

“Well, I kind of am. You should know it’s not going to last like that. I’m sorry to be a downer, but it’s better to be aware of it beforehand.”

Steve nods, and lets himself slump deeper into the corner of the couch. “I do know. I mean, it was like that after we moved here, at first I slept really well, but after a while the nightmares started to filter in again.”

“It’s the added happiness, for a while your brain is so overwhelmed by it that there’s no space for anything else, but when you get used to it, the old things come back. On the plus side, you’re still much happier on the balance than before.”

“It’s a huge plus,” Steve admits, and changes the topic. “How’s it going with you and Nat, all good?”

“Yeah, it’s great.” Sam breaks out in a smile, as he usually does when he’s called to think about his and Natasha’s relationship. “I mean, we’ve obviously needed to sort some things out. Since she didn’t grow up in any kind of a normal environment, there are some surprises in how we should go about things for both of us, but we’re good, willing to work it all out.”

Steve smiles at the definitely dopey expression on Sam. “Yeah, that’s probably going to take you far.”

“I mean, we have a pile of complications, not quite as much combined as you and Barnes have, but we come close.”

“True, but I think if anyone, the two of you have the tools to get through it. And you can call him Bucky, you know.”

“Hell no.” Sam grins again. “Bucky isn’t a real name, it’s a comic book character. Or a kid. I can’t call a grown man that.”

“Right, sure. I’ll give you six months before you’re calling him Bucky.”

“We’ll see about that.” Sam is quiet for a moment while he empties his mug. “So what’s bothering you then? Because something is, quite obviously.”

Steve isn’t at all surprised that Sam noticed and asked, he’s actually grateful for him volunteering the talk instead of Steve having to bring it up. He hesitates for a second, trying to find a place to start unraveling his train of thought.

“Before Bucky left I almost suggested to him that I’d take a look at the mission brief, work on the outline with him.”

Sam gives him a sharp look. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“No, I know. I do. It’s just, what with all that’s been going around in the press.”

“The way they’re saying you shouldn’t be taking a break? It’s been getting to you then.”

“Yeah.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know I shouldn’t heed to that, I’m doing what’s best for me, and on the long run it’s better for everyone, but I can’t not see it.”

“I get it. But there’s another side to it too that you should know. I’ve been going to the VA on occasion, and both right after you stepped down, and now again, there’s been an influx of veterans seeking help, and some of those that have been feeling dejected about their progress have been encouraged. They see you, they know your worth, and since you’re taking time to work on your issues, they can do so too. It’s easier for them to allow themselves to get help and admit they’re having problems dealing, instead of making themselves try and tough it out. So that’s worth a lot.”

It’s a physical feeling of relaxation taking over him, a tension he’s been carrying starting to let go. “You know, when I first found out about Project Rebirth, I knew that if it went as they envisioned, it would mean new kinds of responsibilities for me. I wasn’t afraid of it then, but it doesn’t mean I was prepared. I couldn’t be since there was no way for me to know, not for real, what it would mean for me. And sometimes it’s more intimidating than I ever expected, but it’s more rewarding too. I’m glad to hear they’re taking steps to help themselves.”

“Right, and you should too. So here’s me telling you, don’t get back in the field yet. Well, not unless there’s a major crisis. Otherwise stick to what you’re doing now.”

Sam has been nothing but supportive ever since he decided to step away, but it’s still somehow a surprise to hear him tell it so plainly. Steve suspects the surprise is more due to his misguided expectations rather than Sam’s tendencies, the need to be alright is so deeply engraved in him that he instinctively expects others to think so too, even when he rationally knows otherwise. It’s a relief too, he can’t deny it. He’s been sure he’s doing the right thing, sure that it’s right to go against the instinct off hiding his troubles. Even with the newly risen conflicting emotions he still always knew what was the wisest choice, but having Sam tell him lifts a weight from his chest. He trusts Sam, trusts his opinions when it comes to trauma and recovery, even when he’s not always best at following the advice, and hence his words weigh a lot more than those of a horde of critics.

“I’m going to,” he promises.

“Good. You see, I think if you set your mind to it, you could go back to work and be as effective as ever, more than you were early last spring. But you’re only in the middle of working through everything, and if you went back to action, you’d just rebury all of it, and it would keep festering.”

“And it would fall on my head on some very inopportune time. I know.”

They move to lighter topics then, Sam tells him about the antics of his little nieces, and Steve feels much calmer than he has since Bucky departed for the mission and he was left with a lot more time to dwell in his thoughts.

***

Wanda and Sharon come by later in the afternoon, and they all pitch in making the dinner. They talk about decidedly light things and drink beer and wine as they work in the kitchen. It’s one of those days when Steve is less conscious than usual about how he’s less affected by the alcohol than others, it feels like he’s relaxing along with them, and he enjoys the simple comfort of having friends over.

When the roast is in the oven Steve takes Sharon up to the studio to show her his painting of Peggy. He did one for her as well, in it Peggy is portrayed young, wearing her field uniform from the war with a submachine gun in her hands. There are no photographs of her like that, all that exist depict her in the dressier clothes, neat skirt and heels, and Steve wants the more combat ready side of her to be remembered as well. He’s kept the other one, the one where Peggy is both young and old, where all the aspects of her, all the times she was with him meld together. He hasn’t shown the painting so far to anyone but Bucky, it’s too personal, but now he’s ready for Sharon to see it as well. She knew a different Peggy than he did, for the most part, and he thinks that she understands the contrast and yet similarity of the times that exist in his mind now that she’s seen the painting.

She waits when he puts it back to the storage. “Why isn’t it on a wall?” the question is purely curious, non-judgmental, as if she’s just figuring him out.

“Feels too personal, like it says things about me that I don’t want to let everyone know, not even everyone who I invite to our house. Only you and Bucky have seen it so far.”

“I thought you said Natasha snoops around occasionally.”

Steve grins. “She does, but I asked her to not look at that one, and the one I have of Bucky for that matter. She promised, so I believe she’s going to stick to it. I think they’ll make it on the wall here at home somewhere down the line, just not yet.”

“I get it, it’s too raw for now. And thank you for showing me, I’m glad to get to know her through your eyes, the way I got to know you through hers.”

“Seems about fair, although I think she had a lot more embarrassing stories about me than I have about her.”

They go back downstairs and find Wanda and Sam in the living room. Sam has turned the television on, even though there doesn’t seem to be that much happening, and Wanda is looking at the paintings they’ve put on the wall. She’s seen their family pictures already, but there’s a new one, a view over the rooftops of Brooklyn during a summer sunset. It was finished only the previous week, and Steve put it up in a burst of activity after Bucky left for the mission a few days earlier.

“It’s a view from the roof of the building where Bucky and I lived before the war. We used to go up all the time in the summer, it was the only place to find a bit of cool wind, or quiet. We had paper-thin walls and a whole lot of neighbors yelling.”

“Sounds fun,” she says.

“Well, it was kind of miserable, the place was a dump and we struggled to make ends meet a lot of the time, but there were good times too. We were never unconscious of our circumstance, but sometimes we could just let go of it for a while and just live. It’s a lot harder these days.”

The timer on the roast pings then, and maybe it’s good to be distracted so that they won’t get any more maudlin. They’ve just set the table when his phone chimes with a message from Nat saying,  _ Skype us, we’re BORED. _ Steve sets the laptop at the end of the table, and soon enough Bucky and Nat are on screen, obviously settled in on a stakeout.

“Oh wow,” Sharon says, laughing. “Sam, you’ve totally got the sappier look on your face, I would have thought Steve would take the cake there.”

Sam elbows her gently, but doesn’t even bother denying it, since it’s true. Nat smiles at him even more from the other end.

“Steve has the benefit of hailing from the repressed forties where you had to hold in your emotions,” Bucky chimes in, and as Steve makes a face at him, adds, “Besides, we’re not the sappy kind anyway.”

“No one believes you, Barnes,” Sharon says. “I mean, I’m sure you drive each other mad more than often enough, but I’m not buying that’s the whole thing.”

“It isn’t, the pining is awful,” Natasha adds, and snags Bucky’s hand without looking when he tries to poke her.

“I’m starting to think this was a mistake,” Bucky says.

“Why, because your gruff facade keeps crumbling? All of us knew already you’re a marshmallow underneath all the knives,” Wanda says.

“No, just that our meal of protein bars is falling even shorter in comparison to your feast.”

“True, it is rather unfortunate,” Natasha agrees with Bucky.

“We’re going to dig in though, or all this is going to get cold,” Sam says and motions for Steve to cut the meat.

They all get to their meals, Bucky and Natasha obviously with much less gusto than the rest of them. After a moment Natasha asks, “Sharon, how come you’re drinking on a Monday anyway, aren’t you supposed to be at the CIA office bright and early, ready to catch delinquents or whatever it is you guys do?”

“Nope, I’m off this week, I wrapped an investigation and my overtime hours were so terrifying that even our HR took notice. So, I’m letting loose. How about you guys, shouldn’t it be against protocol to skype from a mission?”

Natasha makes a face. “Eh, we’re secure, and this is such a milk run I’m offended they sent both of us. Everything about the target is ridiculous, especially considering how long the confidentiality agreement we had to sign was. So we can damn well talk to you guys while we wait for him to do something stupid.”

“I really wish he would, this thing is rotting my brain,” Bucky says, but sits up straight right after. “Speaking of which.”

“Yep.” Natasha grabs her holster from the table. “Excuse us, got to go hang this guy dry.”

The connection cuts out and the four of them are left alone.

“Well, it was probably a good timing, I think they would have cried if all they got of our dessert was a picture on screen,” Wanda says, and breaks the residual tension in the room.

They eat the dessert, a chocolate raspberry cheesecake, and after they finish they load the dishwasher and move to the living room with their drinks. It’s kind of a weird feeling for Steve, and he suspects it’s the same for all of them, to be here while Bucky and Nat are on mission. Of course it has been like that for the whole day, but talking to them made it somehow feel more real, and knowing they’re in action right this moment makes it a weird contrast to be at home relaxing.

He’s not worried, Natasha said it was an easy mission, and he knows both of them are professional enough they won’t do the common mistake of getting sloppy when it’s supposedly easy and failing because of that. He’s right about it too, it’s not too long before there is another call on Skype, and Bucky and Natasha appear back on screen.

“All done?” Sam asks.

“Yep, in all the ridiculousness. And we have cake and probably terrible wine, so we’re slightly less jealous of your dinner.”

They eat straight from the bakery box and don’t bother with glasses, might be that wherever they are doesn’t have any kitchenware. Stakeout places often are rather bare bones. Steve sips at his beer, letting himself relax completely again, knowing Bucky should be home again soon.

***

After Steve has poured his guests into a cab he tidies up a bit so that next morning will be more normal. It’s not too late yet, they started fairly early in the afternoon, and he is in bed after a shower by eleven. Sleep is slow to come by, the bed feeling too big like it never did before he got used to sleeping with Bucky right next to him. They’ve finished moving Bucky’s things up so that it really is their bedroom now, instead of just his with Bucky occasionally coming over.

He lies curled under the covers, warm and comfortable, and yet not at the same time. He keeps staring at the other half of the bed, he’s already used to settling on one half by reflex, even now that he’s alone and could just sleep in the middle. After a few minutes he takes his phone and calls Bucky, even at the risk of not getting through if they’re traveling.

Bucky does answer, so Steve puts him on the speaker and curls up tighter, the phone on the mattress next to him.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Nightmares?” Bucky asks, a hint of concern in his voice.

“No, haven’t had a wink yet. It’s just that the bed is too big now.”

“Oh.” 

There’s a scuffle on the other end, then Natasha’s voice a bit distant, “That must have been cute, thought you’d like to know James is totally blushing.”

Steve laughs as Bucky protests, and clearly gets the phone back, since his grumbling comes through more clearly.

“You do blush though, you have the skin tone for it.”

“So do you, the pale Irish that you are,” Bucky retorts.

“Sure, but I’m not trying to deny it.”

Bucky grumbles some more at the other end and Steve smiles to himself, feeling much better about it already, knowing they’ll soon be together again, and hopefully Bucky gets at least a few days before there’s another mission. Their lives are settling into new patterns again, and it’s not perfect, not yet anyway, but these days Steve thinks striving for perfection is fairly meaningless, definitely so when it comes to relationships. After all, what they have is good, and he’s determined to enjoy every minute of it, the wonderful days as well as the difficult ones, all of the things that make up their lives.

“So there was this funny thing we saw through the windows of our safe house while we were waiting for something to happen,” Bucky starts.

He tells Steve stories and anecdotes of a daily life in a city, wherever they happened to be with Natasha, somewhere warmer than New York apparently. Steve listens to him, concentrating more and more on the cadence of Bucky’s voice rather than the words as he drifts, finally letting the sleep claim him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chronologically the next chapter is on Bucky’s side of story, [here's a direct link to it](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10590288/chapters/29656575).


	7. January 4th 2018

“I’ll come with you today,” Steve says, watching Bucky struggle with stuffing the shield in the carry case. It’s a new one, with space for some of his guns too, and apparently the fit isn’t quite right.

Bucky finally manages to close the clasps and stands up stretching his back. “You’re not intending to do anything like work? Because if you are, I’m under strict instructions from Sam to sit on top of you until you change your mind.”

“Should have known he was going to worry all over about it,” Steve sighs half to himself. “No, I just want to talk to Nat, and she’s been pretty much living there recently.”

“Yeah, they’re training with the kids, getting an intensive period of how not to be totally obvious on field down. Why not call, though?”

“It’s one of those, you know. Better face to face.”

Bucky nods, understanding. “Yeah, I get it. Let’s go then. But I’m driving.”

“Fine by me, I already got the coffee ready to go.”

It’s still dark as they head out, the morning traffic is starting to pick up but it flows nicely along the streets. Steve leans back in his seat sipping his coffee, soothed by the smooth rhythm of Bucky’s driving.

It’s clear to him Bucky’s having one of his more jittery days, not a bad one exactly, just one of those when he needs to stay in control to keep it okay, needs to feel like he’s got all the strings in hand. Being a passenger on the car wouldn’t be impossible, but why poke it when it’s easy enough to soothe the feeling like this. The couple of hours commute, doing the easy action of driving, might even quell the feeling. Sometimes it goes like that.

“So, how worried is Sam about me?” Steve asks after quarter of an hour.

“Compared to how much he usually worries about you? Not very. He thinks you’ve got your priorities in good order, just that there’s been additional pressure.”

“What do you think?”

“I would have been surprised as hell if you’d actually meant to get back to work today, I know that much. Figured it was something else, but might as well tell you that I’ve been told to keep an eye on you. As if I didn’t already.”

Steve snorts. “Yeah. Goes both ways, as always. But you’re right, I’m okay with all this. It’s a thought that comes sometimes, that maybe I should start getting back to action, but I know it’s not the right time. I still need to sort out the things in my head first. Clear my table, so to speak. But good to know I don’t need to reassure Sam about it.”

Bucky hasn’t asked why he’s going to see Nat, and Steve is grateful for the space, since it’s the kind of a tangle he needs help sorting with, and it’s too close to Bucky. It’s his own insecurity, but he knows it would probably come out wrong right now if he were to talk about it with Bucky, would put a strain on him that he doesn’t need or deserve. They are better these days at talking about things in general, when it comes to the two of them or anything else, but sometimes there just needs to be an outside voice, and for Steve it’s often Natasha these days when it comes to him and Bucky. He knows Bucky has these sort talks too with Nat and Sam, and it all works out fine.

Steve sometimes thinks it’s a bit funny though, that when it comes to personal life and such things, he tends to gravitate toward Nat, and if it’s something to do with being a soldier, his job and what it all means, he goes to Sam most often. For Bucky it seems to be the other way around.

It takes around two hours for them to get to the compound, and Steve is glad he’s not making the trip every day, it would be a chore by itself. Neither is Bucky, he usually goes a couple of times a week at the most if he’s at home. The mood in the car is fairly light in the end, even when Steve is carrying the things he wants to talk to Nat about, and Bucky having a tense day, but it all just makes it more obvious that they’ve learned to deal with it all, and by the time they leave the car in the garage Bucky is smiling for real, his shoulders relaxed.

***

Bucky heads off to fit on a new suit, a process which obviously annoys him, and Steve goes to find Natasha. She’s in her apartment, in the room that’s turned into a ballet studio with mirrors on walls. She’s sitting in the middle of the floor, stretching, and as Steve comes in she motions him to help her with it. It’s not new to him, they’ve often talked like this, and it already calms him.

“Don’t tell me you already have relationship trouble,” she says.

Steve huffs out a bit of laughter. “No, it’s not that.”

“But?”

It’s a bullseye really, because it’s true they’re doing fine with Bucky, when it’s just about the thing between them, but there’s everything else too.

“It’s just, I’m kind of looking for reinforcement really.”

She looks at him for a long moment.

“It’s something you think is stupid to worry about, and yet do, isn’t it?”

“Got it in one.”

“Okay. As long as you’re aware. Shoot.”

Steve is silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He’s been turning this in his head for days, first deciding whether it’s something he should bring up, later trying to find exactly the words to use. He still doesn’t have those.

“It’s just, Bucky’s had harder time about it all again recently.”

“I know. But it’s natural you know, it would be strange if there weren’t ups and downs.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, I know, it’s not that. I just, he’s fighting so hard and he deserves to have it made easier, and I want to. There’s just not much I can do about it.”

“So you’re feeling like you’re not enough.” She quirks her eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, and I know it’s not reasonable, I can’t just go and make it all go away, and it’s not even my responsibility. But I still feel like it is.”

Natasha folds out of her stretch and gets up to her feet. “Come on, let’s go get tea.”

She doesn’t have too many Russian habits, and sometimes she even seems to shun those roots, but she does make tea the traditional way with concentrate and a somewhat modernized Samovar. Steve appreciates the practicality of it, since it’s always ready all through the day, and he knows she tends to drink a cup at regular intervals if she’s not going anywhere.

When they both have steaming cups in front of them, she says, “Honestly, I’m just glad you actually get it’s not your responsibility. Because I don’t think you always did.”

“No, I didn’t. You’re right about that. There is still that guilt, probably always will be, but I’m getting better at seeing what was my fault and what was out of my control. It’s been a lot easier since he came to live with me. Helps me focus on the right things.”

“That goes both ways, you know. You’re right, you can’t just whisk his pain away, but it doesn’t mean you don’t help. You do. And it’s natural to feel helpless about it. Just don’t let it consume you.”

“I’m trying to, that’s why I’m here.” Steve smiles at her, and she pats his hand.

“Our heads get stuck with all kinds of weird things, especially since we’re not exactly standing on a solid ground all the time.”

“You been doing okay?” Steve asks her then, because he recognizes the pensive look on her face.

“Yeah, most of the time. There are days when I wake up and it feels like I’m faking it by trying to be with Sam, because he’s so normal, and I’ve got my head full of stuff from an assassin school for little girls. So sometimes I wonder what does he even see in me.”

“Someone who’s really great, and strong to have gotten through all that shit, and kind of dorky on top of it, guess.” Steve grins at her. “Also he probably likes the idea that you could strangle him with your thighs.”

“Oh my god, Steve.” She elbows him, but not that hard, and she’s definitely laughing now.

Steve keeps smiling, feeling much lighter. “Just saying.”

“As if you’re not at all into how James can actually hold you down if he wants to.”

“Guilty,” Steve admits, and they fall into silence, drinking their tea, and when the discussion picks up again it’s all about decidedly impersonal things.

***

When Natasha heads out to give her class on espionage Steve wanders to the recreational area, with a vague idea of finding some of his friends and just catching up with those he’s seen less recently. It takes less than a minute before Tony comes in with a box under his arm and unceremoniously drops it in front of him on the table. It’s a file box, clearly old, and on it is written  _ CAP _ in the stocky block letters Howard Stark used when he needed other people to actually be able to read something.

“I found it in the storage, dad must have held onto it since 1945.” Tony flops down on the couch next to him, pretending to be extremely interested in whatever is on the screen of his phone.

These days Steve understands much better where the antagonism that completely baffled him when he first met Tony came from, and he feels mostly helpless anger about it. It’s difficult to fit together in his head his friend Howard and the man who completely neglected his child. When Steve thinks of it, he can see how it would happen, Howard was always too interested in his projects, too delighted in his own intellect, and so taking care of a child must have been boring. Then to find out that the child was actually more intelligent than him must have been tricky for him. He would have been both proud and jealous at the same time, Steve thinks, and it would have made their relationship strained. Howard’s untimely death wouldn’t have helped with it at all.

The anger comes from how he wants to shake his friend for shirking from his duty to his family, and making it harder for Tony in general, but also harder for the two of them to get along, creating hurdles there shouldn’t be between them. There’s just nothing he can do about it, it’s all in the past.

As he opens the box he wonders what there could be, because he doesn’t remember anything important enough to have been saved that he doesn’t already know about. Peggy had taken care of all his personal belongings, and he’d gotten them back soon after he first contacted her after he woke up. He huffs out a laughter when he sees what’s inside, because it all has to do with Captain America, and it’s very telling to him. He knows Howard, while he was a good and true friend, never quite made a difference between what was Captain America and what was him, and hence would see these things more important than they actually are to Steve.

There’s the notebook he’d used for their mission details, written in code, and that he’d left behind before the last attack on HYDRA just in case, since he got intentionally captured. There are all the first editions of Captain America comics released during the war, and even the suit he used during the USO tour, rather worse for wear from when he went after Bucky. Smithsonian will probably be delighted to get all of it, now that they’ve again decided he’s worthy of looking up to.

“What’s so funny?” Tony asks, clearly having watched him for all that he’s still glued to his phone.

“It’s just, it’s all Cap stuff. None of my personal things.”

“You never really liked it, did you? Being Captain America,” Tony says, as if he’s only now figuring it out. Now he’s looking at Steve, his eyes piercing as they can be.

“It’s not being Cap in general I’ve had a problem with. It’s what people wanted to make of it, bending him toward things I don’t agree with. And after I woke up there was a lot that I needed to deal with and didn’t. I got into it with Loki and Chitauri and never stopped, never sorted out the things that messed me up. I’m doing that now.”

“So you will come back to duty in time?”

It’s a revelation to Steve, the way Tony sounds almost surprised. “Yeah, I will come back. Maybe not with the shield, I think it’s a good thing Bucky has it, and maybe after him someone else should carry it. In time, when he no longer needs it. But I don’t think I need it to do good.”

“Guess I should have known, you really don’t know how to quit.” Tony shakes his head, but it seems almost fond to Steve.

“Not as long as there’s injustice to fight.”

Steve rifles through the box, wondering if he should take up Howard, talk about him and how he used to see Steve, but he doesn’t think he has words to make it better. Instead his fingers curl around something hard, and as he pulls the small object out he smiles. There was something personal in the box after all.

It’s a pocket knife, one that fits perfectly in his hand now, but he remembers a time it didn’t, a time when it was slightly too big. Bucky bought it in 1936, and they both used it for a lot of purposes. When he left for training, Bucky left it with him, and Steve took it to the war when he followed. It served them well during their time on the front, it was always in the pocket of one or the other.

Steve had it on the day of the train, and later in London he’d left it with the things he didn’t carry around, unable to even look at it. Now it’s here, something that must not have registered as important to Peggy, but yet it is.

“Thanks for getting these to me,” Steve says, trying to communicate how much he means it to Tony.

Clearly Tony almost shrugs it away, the way he usually does when people thank him, but instead he draws himself straight. “You’re welcome.”

***

It’s past dinnertime when they arrive back home, and as neither one of them feels like cooking Bucky pops in at the Thai place just a block away that they like, and brings back a bag bulging with food. When they eat, Steve tells Bucky of the trickiness he’s had with Tony due to Howard. He at first contemplates on leaving it, considering Howard understandably is a difficult subject for Bucky, but they’ve promised each other to try and be not only honest but forthcoming, and Steve thinks this is something that’s probably better to be talked about.

Bucky furrows his brow, serious and deep in thought as he listens, but at least it doesn’t seem to hit him the wrong way. Steve is glad to see it, it’s maybe the thing he’s most furious about at HYDRA, that they made Bucky kill someone he actually knew, and with it caused additional guilt that so far has been the hardest thing to deal with.

“I remember being irritated with him sometimes,” Bucky says, and it surprises Steve, because he’d been under the impression that Bucky and Howard got along well enough, for all that they didn’t spend too much time together.

“How so?”

“It’s just, the way he talked about you sometimes, it was as if all that mattered had come from what he and Erskine did. I remember thinking more than once setting him straight, but it would have been too much trouble, and there was enough stress going around without me annoying him.”

Steve pulls Bucky to his side on the couch, mindful of his half-full plate. “That’s kind of funny actually, the first time I met Tony, we ended up having words and he said all that mattered about me came from a bottle.”

“Bet you took that well.”

“I told him to put on his suit and have a go with me.” Steve shrugs when Bucky pokes at him, he’s not proud of what went down on the helicarrier, none of them should be, but they’ve made their way past it. “Anyway, guess what you saw then explains where Tony got it.”

“Also his issues, if his dad saw you as someone he created and then there was his son who couldn’t measure up.”

Steve rubs at his eyes. “Guess so. Wish it had been different, it’s not like we’re competing on anything with Tony, but it’s hard to see when you’re young, and hard to overcome even with time. Think he’s getting over it, though.”

“Parents can mess you up,” Bucky says, and Steve squeezes his hand. Bucky loved his family, but he did have a complicated relationship with his father, and clearly he’s still conscious of it, even when his memories are sometimes fuzzy when it comes to the past. “You really never noticed he was like that about you?”

“No. I mean, I know he thought of it all as one, that Captain America was me and all that, but I never got the impression he thought it was all due to what they did. He was a good friend to me. I just wish he’d been as good a father to Tony.”

When they’ve eaten Steve takes out the pocket knife and gives it to Bucky, who turns it around in his hands.

“You know,” Bucky says, slowly, remembering, “back before the war, I remember we were miserable a lot of the time, it was so hard to get by. And yet, I was also happy.”

“And now?” Steve asks, half afraid but needing to know.

Bucky looks at him as if he’s asked a particularly silly question, which is fair, because Bucky has actually told him before, in so many words even. “Of course I’m happy, why wouldn’t I be?”

Steve shrugs, even as his heart is lighter with Bucky again saying it. “It’s just, you know. It’s not easy, sometimes.”

“No, but then life never is. I just said, it was pretty tough before the war as well. It’s just a different set of troubles now. And I could do without some of the new ones, but now we don’t have to worry about whether we’re going to eat next week.”

“Instead it’s whether the next crazy megalomaniac is going to turn up,” Steve says, but he’s smiling now, reassured by the casualness of Bucky.

“Yeah, that. But we also get to kiss without worrying someone’s going to drag us into jail. I like that.”

“I like that too,” Steve says, and pulls Bucky into a kiss, because there’s really no other way it can go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New year, but this continues as usual.
> 
> Chronologically the next chapter is on Bucky’s side of story, [here's a direct link to it](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10590288/chapters/30522198).


	8. February 4th 2018

It has been a month of reflection for Steve. Not a particularly great month, if one considers only the things to do with him as an individual; he’s been unusually conscious of everything he’s struggling with. Sam has told him it’s most likely due to the fact that he’s now in the process of dealing with it all, he has to really look at the problems to be able to get over them, and it’s natural that it gets him down. It helps to know it’s part of the process, to get the affirmation it’ll only be temporary.

He also feels light, he muses during his morning run. He’s still not perfectly adjusted, but things around him are so much better now, things between and around the Avengers have stabilized, and most of all, Bucky is doing much better. Over the last few weeks he’s clearly settled into his new equilibrium, and Steve has been delighted to note there’s a pronounced decrease of both nightmares and generally darker moods. They’re not fully gone, won’t be for a long time, maybe not ever. They both know it, but now it seems Bucky is truly reaching a state where it’s sustainable for him to live, where he doesn’t have to think of himself as being in recovery, and it means so much to Steve.

It helps with his own issues too, he knows that while he consciously took a step last year to try and deal with them, and that he has started the process, he still was holding back a bit while Bucky was struggling more. It makes sense now that he’s conscious down to his core that Bucky’s definitely on the path of being fine, he is letting himself feel his own issues more.

For the last few days Bucky’s been on a mission, a light and easy one from what Steve has heard, and Steve has spent his time mostly in the studio, sometimes painting, sometimes just thinking. He’s been looking backward in time, all the way to his childhood, sorting out his experiences and choices, the times he’s still happy about, the times he now knows he should have done better, the times when there was nothing more he could have done to prevent a misery. He’s tried to be as honest with himself as he can, walking the tightrope of not letting himself off too easily, and not being too hard on himself. It’s not really natural for him, but he thinks he’s been doing okay.

They’ve been days filled with routine, mostly spent by himself, and while it’s been good, he’s also getting bored. Happily, he has scheduled a training day with Wanda and Peter, it’ll liven things up. After his run he takes a quick shower and throws on comfortable clothes, he’ll have to change again anyway soon enough. He’s just making his way down to the kitchen to figure out breakfast, when the doorbell rings.

He’s a bit confused, considering he’s not expecting anyone, and even though the press knows where he lives, they don’t tend to be so brazen. Looking at the security screen, he sees Sharon at the door, a bakery box balanced on one hand.

“Will you let me in if I bring donuts?” She asks when Steve opens the door for her.

He takes the box, and she shrugs out of her coat and boots. “Not that I don’t appreciate the company, I was feeling fairly bored by myself, but what brought you?”

“Nat thought you might be lonely.”

“And you didn’t want to point out to her you’re not my babysitter?”

“Well, she also thinks I work too much, and considering she kind of has a point I thought it best to not argue.”

“Would have spent another Sunday with files if you hadn’t come here?” Steve guesses, leads her to the kitchen, and puts the coffee pot on. He also takes out eggs and bacon, knowing he’ll need more protein than the pastries will provide, and that she can eat a frankly terrifying amount of bacon, especially considering her normal human metabolism. It’s not just one or two people that have told her she’ll have a coronary before she’s fifty if she keeps it up, but apparently she’s in perfect health.

“Probably, but I guess there’s no fear of it ever getting too bad, since there’ll always be a Natasha shaped intervention.”

“She does make a good approximation of a busybody, albeit a terrifying one.”

“Also hypocritical, considering she’s not really great at taking breaks either.”

Steve laughs. “That’s true. But I think it’s better these days, Sam is all about regulating and healthy scheduling. It’s good for both of them, just makes it a bit, you know.”

“Terrifying when they’re tag teaming you?”

“That.”

They chatter easily over the breakfast, both frivolous and serious things, and when she leaves after exchanging a promise to not look at work that day for Steve saying he’ll have company, Steve is feeling much happier. It’s been good to have the last few days for himself, to go through things in his head, but it’s only now with the contrast of uncomplicated company that he realizes how much it’s been weighing him down. It’s definitely true he needs a break from heavy subjects, and hence he picks up a book instead of going to the studio for the couple of hours he has before he’ll have to leave to meet Wanda and Peter.

***

There is an old Stark Industries warehouse at the end of 19th Street by the water, only a couple of miles from their home. Steve doesn’t know what there used to be before, but recently it was converted into a training space for the Avengers, for people who need something more sturdy than a regular gym. Of course, there are larger training facilities upstate, but it makes sense that there is a space in NYC as well now that Stark Tower is no longer theirs, because not everyone wants or can move, and the distance is too long for daily commute.

Steve jogs at a light pace there; Bucky took the car when he left for the mission, and it’s not like the distance is anything that matters to him. Wanda and Peter arrive in her car about the same time as he does.

Their sessions aren’t too formal, Steve is giving them pointers on hand to hand, how to fight with their bodies in addition to their powers, because there may come a time they’ll need every edge they can gain. They’re figuring out how to make everything they learn complement their other skills, and they’re getting along well, but a big part of it for all three of them is to let loose for a while, to have fun with what they can do and not have to worry about regular people getting in the way.

After a couple of hours they all pile into Wanda’s car and head for Steve’s. He called ahead at his favorite Chinese place, and their order is ready to go as he pops in. They eat in the kitchen, and end up talking about possibilities for education, since Peter of course has to think of where he wants to go after high school, and Wanda’s been thinking of studying something now that she has a chance. She is a bit hesitant on whether she’d like to study at a campus, she thinks people would be afraid of her, and hence one option she’s been considering is online courses. Steve is again angry about the things world has put her through, how she had to make choices that now affect her whole life before she was really old enough or prepared enough to do so. At least it’s obvious she’s doing much better these days.

They practically inhale most of the food, all three of them able to work up big appetites, and it continues to be a good day for Steve.

***

Steve is even happier to find Bucky pulling his combat boots off in the front hall when he comes back down after showering. He looks rested and calm, so the impression the mission was an easy one must have been correct. He’s back earlier than expected as well.

“You’re in luck, we got enough Chinese that there’s leftovers for you too, even though you didn’t even deign to tell me you were coming back home.”

“Surprise,” Bucky says, and rubs their cheeks together as he pulls Steve into a tight hug. His stubble catches on Steve’s beard.

Steve holds on tight too, settling back into Bucky’s presence, letting the habitual worry fall off him for now. They’re both home and safe, and he really couldn’t ask for more.

“How were the kids?” Bucky asks as they go to the kitchen.

Steve pulls out beers for the two of them, as well as heating all the leftovers, before sitting down to talk about their training while Bucky eats all the food on the table. Bucky laughs out loud at Steve’s description of how Wanda completely surprised Peter by turning his webbing non-adhesive mid-fling. She also floated him gently down, so there were no injuries, except maybe to his pride.

Steve ends up talking to Bucky about the things he’s been occupied with over the time he was away while Bucky sorts out his field gear to be ready for the next time he needs to head out. It unwinds the both of them despite the heavy topic, just settling it all in Steve’s head and giving Bucky an idea of what’s going on with him. These days they know it’s a lot easier to help dealing with the nightmares when they’re aware of the topics that might pop up already beforehand, because neither one of them is too fond of putting things to words when they wake up shaken, and talk it out if they’ve been mulling over something.

When he’s all done with unpacking and repacking his go-bag, Bucky heads for the shower. Steve trails slowly after him, coming to their bedroom when Bucky’s already in the bathroom. There’s something he wants to try, but it’s difficult to come up with an angle in the conversation that would naturally lead to asking for it.

For all that they’ve gotten fairly good at talking about things, about their struggles and the emotional side of their relationship, they haven’t talked too much about the particulars of the physical side. There are the affirmations that yes, they both indeed do want it, so much, but when it comes to sex, they usually just go with the flow. It’s definitely going great, Steve never would have believed it could be so good beforehand, but so far they’ve kept to fairly simple things, most common tend to be hand jobs while kissing each other in bed. Or the couch, or the floor, or that one time sitting on the chest of drawers in the hallway by the front door. They’d needed to re-fasten the joins afterward.

Now he’s at a bit of a conundrum, because he needs to find the words, and it’s a whole new thing, everything sounds incredibly awkward when he tries it for size inside his head.

In the end, when Bucky comes out of the bathroom Steve is sitting in the middle of their bed completely naked. It’s probably not going to make anything he is going to say less like he’s just dropping it on Bucky, but at least this way Bucky is steered to the right state of mind beforehand. He is too, there’s the slow smile that Steve loves brightening his face, clearly eager to get to it. Bucky lets the towel drop from his hips to the floor and gets on the bed to crawl up to Steve.

Steve takes care to open his mouth before Bucky touches him, because if he won’t, he’ll be distracted and they’ll end up getting each other off the usual way. “I want you to fuck me.”

Bucky freezes, his face inches from Steve who can see the thoughts flying through his head as clearly as if he was speaking them out loud. He rewinds, making sure Steve said what he thought he said, and when the certainty hits he flushes scarlet.

Steve is completely delighted, the last threads of his own hesitation fall off, because he never in a million years thought he’d actually manage to get Bucky flustered, he generally seems composed about these things. He knows he’s grinning, and maybe it’s not the most appropriate direction their interaction is going, considering what he wants, but then again he already knows there are a lot of ways for getting there.

Bucky scrunches his nose at his amusement, no longer as red as he was, closes in the final inches and proceeds to kiss Steve’s breath away. Steve ends up on his back, Bucky half on top of him, and for a while they just kiss. It’s grounding these days, more than almost anything else for Steve, to have Bucky so close, to have his lips slide against Steve’s. It means they’ve made it, it means now. There is no mixing it up to any other time, it belongs here in the reality of them and their own house, safety and happiness.

Bucky pulls away finally, just enough to look at Steve, his gaze searching, evaluating. It almost reminds Steve of his mission face in a way, the focus is familiar, but it’s different too. There’s no edge of danger, no hyper-awareness. Bucky is soft and open the way he only lets himself be at home, he’s tender as he only is with Steve at his most vulnerable.

“Have you ever done it?” Bucky asks, and he’s hiding it well but Steve can tell he’s a bit apprehensive about the potential answer.

“No,” Steve says, and it occurs to him to ask, “Which would have been more reassuring?”

Bucky chuckles at it then, relaxing. “I don’t know, actually. I mean, I’m not going to lie, there’s part of me that likes the idea of being your first, but it’s the kind of thing Nat would call alpha male bullshit.” Bucky runs his hand across Steve’s hair when he grins at the words. “On the other hand, would be reassuring if one of us at least knew exactly what we’re doing.”

“I like finding out with you,” Steve says, and Bucky dives in for yet more kissing.

Finally they do manage to part for long enough to find the lube, driven by the urgency gathering in them as their cocks press together while they’re kissing, becoming more sensitive, and soon Steve is on his back, Bucky’s gentle fingers breaching him. This part he knows, he’s done it for himself since he figured out he wanted to try with Bucky, but every sensation is much amplified now, with Bucky’s presence by itself helping him along, as well as the fact that he’s not at all in control, that all he can do is feel. He’s completely hard, almost aching, but he doesn’t touch himself, it’s just a bit at the back of his mind as he concentrates on the new sensation, lets it carry him up. He’s tensing and relaxing in turn, most of his awareness directed between his legs, rest of it wherever Bucky’s left hand wanders, causing goose bumps on his skin.

Bucky rubs at his prostate and his hips jolt, a burst of arousal radiating across him. He lets out a moan, and is just about to tell Bucky to get on with it, when the phone rings.

It’s Bucky’s, and it’s not his usual ring tone either. Steve knows he always puts his phone on silent for at least a day after a mission, but this is the emergency override, which means he’s needed immediately.

Bucky pulls away and off the bed to get his phone, Steve immediately feeling empty, and he huffs at the timer on the screen Bucky shows him, counting down from 25 minutes. It’s the time Bucky has until he’ll be picked up, time he has to get ready, and Steve knows it must be at least somewhat serious if they’re calling Bucky in despite him having just come back from a mission. Yet, the background is yellow instead of red, which means it’s not a world ending scenario. If it was red, Steve knows he too would be suiting up.

“I’m half in mind coming along to punch whoever it is that’s causing this,” Steve says, before sitting up and reaching for Bucky.

“What are you—?” Bucky starts when Steve takes his cock in hand.

“You’ve got twenty-four minutes and your gear is all ready to go, so you can spare two minutes now and not have to suffer from blue balls.” He swings to sit on the edge of the bed and pulls Bucky closer by hips before taking him into his mouth.

By now Steve knows all of Bucky’s tells and sensitivities, and considering they’ve both already been aroused for some time, it doesn’t take even two minutes, sucking hard and working with his hands to get Bucky to come. Right after he attempts to push Bucky toward the shower, but only manages it after Bucky bends down and kisses him once more, hard and almost bruising.

Bucky takes off then, and Steve flops down on his back on the bed, legs dangling from the edge. He’s still hard, but he’s not doing anything about it, doesn’t feel like it now that his day has taken a turn he didn’t expect and definitely didn’t want, especially since this was supposed to be something to remember. He lies there and listens to the shower, to Bucky drying off and crossing into the walk-in closet and from there downstairs where most of his combat gear is stored.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, only that it’s beginning to get a bit uncomfortable with the odd position and sweat cooling on his skin. He should take a shower too, but he’s not going to, not until Bucky’s gone.

This is the first time it has happened to Bucky that his missions come one right after another, and while they’ve both known it is possible, it never felt that likely. Now it’s come true, and Bucky will be away for yet another uncertain amount of days, instead of them being able to just take a few days to relax. Steve also knows he’s likely to worry more than normal; for all that Bucky’s previous mission wasn’t too demanding, no time to rest means the risk of slipping up is bigger than usual.

He hears Bucky coming up again, taking the steps three at a time in his combat boots. He’s in full uniform except for the shield, his gloves are tucked in his belt, and he pauses at the threshold for a moment. Before Steve even manages to figure out what he wants to say, Bucky tells him, “Turn around.”

He motions with his hand for Steve to get on his hands and knees on the bed, and Steve takes a moment to parse it out because it’s completely unexpected, so Bucky continues, “I still have eight minutes before they come and get me, so.” He reaches out to grab the lube from where he left it on the bed.

Steve does as he’s directed, and despite the underlying seriousness of the situation, or indeed because of it, he finds it just a bit amusing, because it’s not what one would expect Captain America to be getting up to before a mission. Then Bucky slides his metal hand across his back, soothing as he breaches Steve again with his fingers, and Steve forgets to think about anything but how he’s feeling. Since they can spare only a moment of time Bucky clearly is fully intent on making him come, finding his prostate again and taking his cock in the metal hand. Soon Steve is about to buckle, he leans down to his elbows for more support, and just lets himself float high with Bucky’s touch at both his front and back. It might be seconds only, might be hours as the time feels like it’s stretching with the intensity of the feeling, but he comes and lets himself fall on his stomach, for now uncaring it’s not comfortable.

He listens to Bucky go and wash his hands while he’s coming down from the high, floating down when Bucky comes back to press a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“I have to go.”

“Be safe,” Steve says, like he always does, not yet capable of moving from where he flopped down. The words come out garbled but he knows Bucky understands.

Bucky pulls a blanket on top of him, presses a final kiss on his temple and disappears downstairs. The front door opens and closes, and the house settles around Steve, the atmosphere suddenly different now that he’s alone.

***

He finally drags himself to the shower for the third time that day and into clean clothes, strips the sheets from the bed and puts new ones in. When that’s done he’s finally too fidgety and has to put the television on.

There has been a series of attacks by enhanced people in several cities around the globe. There are only a few dozen in each group, and they’re obviously not very efficient, mostly wreaking havoc instead of systematically going after people. There’s a familiar red symbol on each of them, although it’s not immediately obvious what their goal is.

The need for Bucky is clear, the Avengers have to be distributed around to cover all the attacks, and it might even be the point, to thin out their force before something major happens. Steve puts a call to Friday, and tells them to call him in if there’s suddenly some new development. He watches a few more moments, sees that Natasha and Sam are in New York, already wrapping up their attackers with the help of Spider-man, who’s still not officially an Avenger but always gets up to defend his city. They’ve got it under control, so Steve shuts the television and goes out to the backyard, breathing in the cold night air. He’s starting to understand why Bucky finds it peaceful, for all that he still doesn’t like cold.

The clock ticks to midnight, and there’s no call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are HYDRA agents that are going to feel really sorry for themselves, because they’re about to get an extremely irritated Captain America who’ll shoot them in very painful places dropped on their heads.
> 
> I almost went with ten minutes on Bucky’s timer, meaning they wouldn’t have had time for anything, but I wasn’t feeling like being that cruel:D
> 
> Chronologically the next chapter is on Bucky’s side of story, [ here's a direct link to it](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10590288/chapters/31305945).


	9. March 4th 2018

“I keep expecting for the other shoe to drop,” Steve says as he stirs sugar into his coffee.

“About what?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know, it’s nothing tangible. It’s just a feeling I’ve been having recently.”

They’re at their usual diner having breakfast after a run. Bucky hadn’t come, Sam had driven up with Natasha who was definitely not dressed for running, and she and Bucky have probably already had their breakfast at the house and are talking about whatever they do when they hang out. There are commonalities in their past and it helps both of them to reconnect, to air it out. It’s much the same with Steve and Sam; they too share experiences that help them support each other.

Sam pops a bit of sausage in his mouth, chewing it thoroughly while obviously considering. “If you don’t know what the feeling is about, do you know why you might be feeling it?”

It’s now Steve’s turn to consider, and it opens a possibility he hasn’t cottoned on before; that in this case, why might be the what, and from that it’s fairly easy to come to a conclusion. “I suppose it’s because in general whenever my life has taken an upswing, something happens to sour it. I met Bucky, and it was only a couple of months later that I got the scarlet fever which with the residual effects really wreaked havoc on my health. In the late thirties at the tail end of the depression it got easier, looked like we were finally coming up from it, and my mother fell ill for the final time. The procedure with the serum worked, and Dr. Erskine was shot right after. I found out Bucky was alive, but also that he didn’t know me. And so on.”

“So your brain has learned to not trust happiness.”

“Guess so. And now, it just seems too good to be true, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s perfectly normal, though.”

Steve shakes his head, even when he knows what Sam says is true. “Yeah, but I don’t want to be thinking like that. I’m happy, and if I keep thinking about how it could go wrong, I’m not properly living it now that I have it. I know better than many do that there are no guarantees of happiness lasting, and that’s why I want to concentrate on it. It’s just hard not to let my mind run ahead.”

“You could try this; whenever you notice yourself having those kind of thoughts, focus on some specific thing that makes you happy. It’s better if it’s something current, something happening right then. It doesn’t have to be anything big and all encompassing, it might just be a really tasty apple you’re eating. Just focus on that, really savor it. That way you’ll teach your brain to seek something happy whenever it gets maudlin, and in time hopefully you won’t even notice your thoughts trying to head toward it.”

It sounds so simple it’s almost unbelievable, but by now Steve knows these sort of things usually are. He also knows that simple doesn’t necessarily mean easy.

“I’ll try that. Thanks, Sam.”

“Any time. How do you feel otherwise, are you getting over the latest hump?”

“Not quite yet, although I’d really like to, it’s getting on me. I’m still more tired, feels like my head is stuffed full. I did manage to paint yesterday though, without it feeling like I was just forcing myself. I haven’t had too much inspiration during the last few weeks, it’s as if I’ve already put all that I struggle with on the canvas, so I just kept going back to my old paintings, but yesterday I actually wanted to do something new. So maybe it is looking up.”

“That’s good. What did you paint?”

“Well—” Steve hedges, not knowing what to say, because in fact it’s another one portraying Bucky he won’t be showing anyone else, this time definitely due to purely aesthetic reasons rather than what the painting communicates.

“Or maybe I don’t need to know.” Sam grins at him and goes back to his breakfast.

***

They walk back, but Sam declines the invitation to come in, apparently he’ll need to get to the Sunday dinner with his family.

“Is Nat coming with you?” Steve asks, curious.

“She’s invited, but I doubt it. I don’t think she’s ready yet.”

It’s obvious to Steve Sam doesn’t quite understand why exactly, and the reasons probably are something nebulous enough, but Steve knows Sam is prepared to weather it, that he knows it’s nothing personal toward him or his family, but rather something entangled with her upbringing. Again Steve thinks of how happy he is for them, they’re obviously good for each other, and hugs Sam a bit tighter than usual when he says goodbye.

Steve lets himself in while Sam goes to get the car, and finds Bucky and Nat sitting on the floor in the living room. He’s noticed they often do so when it’s just the two of them, they shun the furniture, as if the behavior somehow fits the people they are together.

She gets up before Steve manages to say anything, and picks up her coat and scarf from where she’d left them on the back of the couch.

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to steal him from you,” she says in a way that’s obviously meant as a joke, mocking the tropes in movies where characters find their significant other with someone else and draw conclusions, but there’s a layer in it that Steve doesn’t understand. She doesn’t comment on his puzzlement, just glances at Bucky who nods, face unreadable the way it usually isn’t these days to Steve.

She hugs him, tight and comfortable, easy with the contact unlike in the early days of their friendship, and Steve can’t help but ask, “Are you going with Sam today?”

She pokes him at the ribs, but still answers. “Not today.”

Steve nods and smiles, the acknowledgment that it will happen one day, and that she seems happy about it, is enough.

When she’s gone and the door is safely locked after her, Steve goes back to the living room, where Bucky gestures at the floor.

“Come on, I’ll help you stretch.”

Steve easily obliges, lies down and lets Bucky pull and prod at him. In general, he doesn’t need to be as diligent about muscle maintenance as non-enhanced people do; his rapid healing helps with that as well, but stretching still feels good, relaxing him and helping the blood flow more easily, and it’s especially good like this with Bucky helping him.

After a moment Bucky says, “You can ask, you know. I can hear you thinking about it.”

Steve acknowledges his assessment with a quirk of his mouth, he had been thinking whether it’s something that shouldn’t be prodded. “I’m not quite sure what exactly the question should be,” he admits.

Bucky lets go of him and sits down on the floor again. Steve stays lying down, just looking, waiting. 

“You know she and I used to know each other, back before.”

It’s a statement, not a question, and Steve does know, even though he hasn’t talked about it with either of them. It’s obvious though, from their interactions and the trust they’ve managed to build that there’s history. It has never bothered him, not knowing. He’s mostly just happy that they have each other for support, the comparable experiences in a way they have with no one else. He doesn’t say anything, just nods and waits for Bucky to tell him whatever he’s ready to let him know.

“I trained her, when she was young, and later we worked together, and we were, well, we were. I don’t know what the right word would be.”

Steve doesn’t need him to elaborate, and he understands the elusiveness of a suitable word. After all when they didn’t really have power over themselves, could what they were be called lovers? He doesn’t know, and maybe it doesn’t even matter. It happened, and it’s obvious it was some kind of a fixed point for Bucky then, one of the few things he can remember without any bitterness. Probably for Natasha too, for that matter.

“They found out, and made me forget. It only started to come back here after I had more contact with her.”

Steve gets the joke now, why it was so complicated underneath, and he understands as well that it was her giving him the permission to know. He appreciates it, not because knowing about Bucky’s previous relationships would matter, but for the trust it shows. He holds out his hand to Bucky, and squeezes it gently.

“Thank you for telling me.” He wants to convey that it really is that simple, that it’s okay for him not to know anything more than they choose, that it’s okay for Bucky to tell him if he needs to. There’s no jealousy, no complicated feelings toward it now that they’ve settled comfortably into their new lives.

He lets himself look back into past, at all the what ifs that might have come true had history moved in other ways. They’re here and now, but there’s the what if Bucky had truly been gone, instead of taken by HYDRA. Some things would have been simpler, in general, but Steve wonders what his personal life would have been like. He can’t imagine it, not now that the present is so clear.

It’s easier to picture a life after war had he not gone down with the Valkyrie. There’s Peggy, and he knows they could have been happy together. And yet, even there Steve can’t see any certainties; he wonders how he would have taken life after war, if it would have worked with Peggy so deeply wrapped in secrets. There’s no knowing now.

The most easily predictable alternate future to him is the one where the war never happened. Steve can see that fairly clearly; he stared at it for good many years, because for someone as poor as him, it’s not like there were many opportunities. He thinks Bucky would have married, even though he now knows Bucky held a candle for him even then, but he’s sure they never would have talked about it. Bucky would have married, would have had a family, and they would have been friends for the rest of Steve’s life, short as it would have been. Steve knows now he most likely wouldn’t have made it to thirty, not with his defective heart.

Looking at all the probabilities, he knows he wouldn’t give the life he has now up for any of them, and it’s another kind of an epiphany that gives him insight on Bucky too. Bucky has said he doesn’t regret anything now that they’re here, that he wouldn’t change his life even if he could, and Steve gets it now, understands the value of their happiness, more bright and clear maybe because it’s been bought with so much pain. He often wishes Bucky wouldn’t have had to go through everything he did, but maybe he can start letting go of the guilt that he’s carried with him ever since that day the mask fell and the Winter Soldier turned out to be Bucky. It won’t be easy, he knows it well enough, but he thinks he’s ready now to at least try to move past it.

He realizes he’s been zoning out when Bucky tugs him up to his feet and starts herding him upstairs. He figures he should take a shower, and it turns out Bucky doesn’t even need to be persuaded to join him. In the shower Steve leans his back to Bucky’s chest, being held upright almost without any effort from him, Bucky’s metal arm firm around his waist, the calluses on his right hand catching on the sensitive skin on his cock. Steve lets his head rest on Bucky’s shoulder, with Bucky’s mouth hot on his neck as he thrusts between Steve’s thighs while jerking him off. It feels like his mind is washed clear with the orgasm, a momentary calm reached.

***

Despite the rather freeing epiphany it’s not an easy day for Steve. Bucky’s tired enough from his rather busy couple of weeks that he ends up falling asleep on the couch after lunch, his book trying to fall off his hand. Steve takes it and puts it on the coffee table before spreading a blanket over Bucky to make sure he’ll be warm and comfortable. On some other day he might tuck himself at Bucky’s side, even if he weren’t tired as such, but just to enjoy the closeness. Not today, though, he knows he wouldn’t be able to settle, and hence he doesn’t even try, just leaves Bucky to sleep in peace.

He goes up to the studio instead, hoping that he might be able to lose a few hours there, to shift the restlessness on the canvas. Only nothing seems to call for him. None of the paintings in progress inspire him, nor does a blank canvas. He sorts out his paints, looking at the shades, searching for a suitable mood, but he ends up just laying them down in order. He sits on the bench by the window for about half an hour with his sketchbook, practicing shapes, hoping it might ease him into the process, but to no avail.

His head feels bruised inside, worn down, and all the energy he has is incoherent, wanting to fly into every direction instead of helping him to create. In the end he leaves his drawing utensils on the window seat and heads out of the room.

He drops down in the hallway between the studio and their bedroom, and does a thousand push-ups, hoping it might focus him. At the end of the sequence he barely feels the exertion, but as he rises up to his feet he sees out through the window in the bedroom, and doesn’t really consider what he’s doing before he closes the bedroom door to prevent cold getting too far into the house and opens the window.

There’s maybe a hint of spring in the air already, but it’s by no means warm, and Steve goes to the closet, puts on a pair of sneakers and a jacket before pulling himself up on the window sill and from there up to the roof. It’s not treacherous, it’s been warm enough that there’s no ice left, and the bit of sun they’ve had that day has dried the roof up enough that he can sit down at the top.

He hasn’t been up there in months, not since his birthday in the summer. It looks very different now, the city grey as it is in the early spring, the sun pale in the sky. It does warm him up a bit, but he’s still glad he took the jacket. The noise of the city is all around him, but it’s still a bit muted compared to being on the street level, and as he gazes over the nearby rooftops, Steve feels calmer. Maybe not quite at peace, but easier.

He sits up there, listening to the city, letting his thoughts float away, not caring about the passage of time. He’s not sure how long he’s been there when he hears Bucky’s voice, calling through the window from their bedroom, a hint of worry in it.

“Up here,” Steve calls back, realizing he should have probably left a note or something, since Bucky doesn’t actually know this is a place he might come up to. He doesn’t even have his phone with him.

A few seconds later Bucky hauls himself up to the roof, and climbs the rest of the way to him. “What are you doing here?”

Steve shrugs. “I was restless, and ended up here. Then I just wasn’t, so I stayed.”

Bucky’s look at him is knowing, after all he too has had a lot of restless days. He sits down next to Steve and pulls him into a hug, rubbing a hand through his hair before settling them so that Steve’s head is comfortably resting at the crook of his shoulder and neck. “You’re a doofus, you know that?”

There’s a smile in Bucky’s voice, and it brings out one from Steve as well. “Takes one to know one.” He wraps his arms firmly around Bucky’s waist and finally finds himself relaxing, not just in body but in mind as well, their closeness the touchstone he needs to center himself.

Steve is tired, he knows he’ll probably fall asleep embarrassingly early that night, but he thinks this might pave way to a better tomorrow, he feels like he’s taken another step. It’s easy, up on the roof, isolated from everyone else and yet under the open sky, Bucky’s arms around him, to believe in the solidity of what they have, to live in the moment instead of worrying about the future. Steve lets his cares go for now, and presses a kiss on the side of Bucky’s neck, because it’s where he can reach without having to move too much.

“I’m happy, you know. With you.”

Bucky pulls him closer and kisses him on the temple. “I’m too. Every day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chronologically the next one is the final chapter on Bucky’s side of the story, [here's a direct link to it](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10590288/chapters/32063034).


	10. April 4th 2018

It’s warm that morning, with the sun shining among the few fluffy spring clouds, and as such it’s pretty much ideal day for gardening. Wanda is helping Steve with getting everything ready for the growing season now that winter has passed. They worked on the garden already during last summer and fall; there are now neat stone paths among the herb garden and flower beds, and the plants each have more clearly assigned spots. He already has some herbs sprouting on the sill of the sunny kitchen window, ready to be put into the earth soon as they’re sure there won’t be any cold nights.

The backyard at Steve and Bucky’s home isn’t too big, and since they got everything mostly in order already in the fall, it doesn’t take them more than a couple of hours that day, including planting a small apple tree in the corner. It’s nice to work together, they don’t talk much, only what’s necessary for the task, and otherwise just breathe in the spring and the smell of soil. Wanda is humming, a little smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and it’s obvious she enjoys herself. Steve by now knows her family used to have a small plot where they grew both vegetables and flowers, and that she’s obviously missed it. He’s happy to let her come and help him, and usually brainstorms with her when it comes to new ideas. Bucky doesn’t much care about the particulars when it comes to the garden, although he does appreciate the fresh herbs now that they’ve started to get a bit more adventurous with their cooking.

Bucky isn’t at home, but not too far away either. He, Natasha, and Sam are at the training space near the river, getting some practice in without having to go all the way to the compound. Steve is fairly sure they’re gearing up to head for one of their not so official missions. Those are getting less and less frequent these days as the protocols for the Avengers are getting hammered down and they get invited more and more often to deal with HYDRA, especially on the trickier cases. It’s good, something they all want and are more comfortable with, not having to consider the power balance and needing to deal with HYDRA while they’re weak.

There have even been inquiries on whether Steve is going to come back to the Avengers, and quite honestly he’s surprised about how positive the opinion outside of the team seems to be. He knows that the moment he expresses interest he’ll be taken back into the roster, because they definitely do not want him working outside of it, but he’s realist enough to know that there are a lot of people on the administrative side that wouldn’t mind if he were to just retire and only come back for major crises. He’s seen as one of those more likely to protest on the policies, a fact that Steve takes as a compliment most of the time. It’s not always easy, seeing the correct way to proceed for the good of everyone, and he knows he hasn’t always been right, but all he can do is to learn and try to be smarter in the future, sticking to what he believes is right.

He’s not quite ready to go back yet, but the time is nearing. For many months it was given that he’d go back some day, but there was no time frame for it at all. Now that he’s been sorting out his head, dealing with the trauma, he’s much steadier, and the idea of going back to the work no longer feels like a completely exhausting prospect. He’s already picked up his training, becoming more focused on brushing up the skills that he’s allowed to lie dormant; weapons practice and such in addition to hand to hand.

They haven’t yet talked about it with Bucky, not specifically even though Bucky has always known Steve is going to get back to work eventually, but he knows it hasn’t gone unnoticed that he’s added to his training regime. Bucky hadn’t said anything when practice knives were added one day into their sparring session, had just gone with it, although probably he’d taken it just a bit easy with Steve. It’s no contest really which one of them is better with knives, or guns for that matter. Steve knows he’s still got an edge with the shield, they still practice throwing it together at times, and when it comes to staffs and swords Steve is ahead as well, having trained a lot with Melinda May for the fun of it, while HYDRA had fairly exclusively leaned on modern Western weapons and training.

It’s a lot of fun sparring with Bucky, even now that it has a more focused purpose, and Steve has to admit he misses the two of them working together, the flow they have on the field is unlike anything Steve has experienced with others. Now he knows it’ll be sooner rather than later that he’ll be able to do so again.

For now though he’s working on the garden with Wanda, same as any other homeowner, and he’s happy to know too, that even when he gets back to work, he’ll now be able to handle it and have a life separate from it. He’ll never again let it consume him like he did after he accepted the position at SHIELD after the Battle of New York.

***

After lunch Steve takes up a topic he’s been meaning to talk about with Wanda, even though he regrets it a bit, because the day has been comfortable so far, and what he’s about to say isn’t really. He needs to talk of a topic he knows isn’t one she likes, but he thinks it’s important to make the point.

“Back on the ship in South Africa, how did you know which memories to call for?”

Wanda visibly tenses, and Steve reaches for her hand, squeezing it with reassurance, but doesn’t say anything, just lets her gather her thoughts.

“It was more about a feeling, I didn’t really go for any specific memory or try to create something. I reached for something that felt important but also conflicted, and mixed it with fear. I actually don’t know what you specifically saw, I wasn’t exactly manipulating memories but emotions.”

“Makes sense.” Steve nods half to himself. “I know it wasn’t the same for all of us, Thor said it was some kind of a vision, for Nat it was a memory, and for me it was wishful thinking turned to ash.”

Wanda opens her mouth, but closes it right after, obviously reconsidering what she was about to say. Steve has a good idea what it was about to be.

“If you want to know what I saw, I’ll tell you. I’ve dealt with it, it’s okay.”

She takes a moment, and it’s obvious she really considers whether she wants to hear, but finally she visibly steels herself and nods. Steve isn’t at all surprised by her choice; ever since she chose to be an Avenger she has continuously confronted her choices and mistakes, sometimes to an excessive degree even.

“It was the end of the war, I was at the club with Peggy, dancing like we’d promised. But it was mixed, I kept seeing double, the same people both celebrating and dying. And in the end the room was empty, I was alone.”

“Do you still want to go back?”

“No. And truth is, I didn’t really even then. Because I already knew that Bucky was somewhere alive, and I wouldn’t have wanted to live decades without knowing what happened to him. I still regretted then what I’d missed, the life I could have had, but if you’d offered me a chance to stay, for Howard to have found me for example, the way he tried, I wouldn’t have taken it. That’s why that particular vision came to me, I guess it was a mix of wanting and yet not, I’d lost the possibility of that life in two ways, both into time as well as by choice, because even in there, part of it felt bitter. And these days, despite everything that’s happened, I wouldn’t change this. We couldn’t have come here by any other path, and what we have now with Bucky is more than I ever could have imagined.”

“That’s a fairly convoluted way of telling me that,” Wanda says, but she’s smiling, and Steve knows she gets what the point he was trying to make was.

She knows well that people have a hard time trusting her, even now that she has her powers in tight control so that she doesn’t accidentally stray into people’s heads. It doesn’t change the fact that she could, even without them knowing, and it’s understandable it makes people hesitant around her, for all that Steve wishes she didn’t have to experience it. And when it comes to him, he knows he has held some barriers high even though he really cares for her as if she were a sister he never used to have. The vision lingered with him, its effects lasted a lot longer than anything else an adversary has managed to say or do to him in the first place. The overall biggest thing he struggles with is what was done to Bucky, but it never was directed right at him, only tangentially, so it’s a different kind of a burden. Somehow what Wanda did back then managed to hit a sore spot, but he’s dealt with it, and now that he’s more solid he can do this too, he can show trust toward her the way she deserves considering the path she’s taken.

They don’t talk about it any more, but there is a shift between them, the already strong trust built even more solid, and it’s yet another thread tying Steve here into this century. He never would want to leave, he was honest when he said he doesn’t yearn back, and he welcomes every string that makes his connection even more solid. He’s finally feeling like he belongs rather than that he’s just making do with what he’s been given.

A few hours later Bucky comes home and finds the two of them curled up into the corner of the couch, watching cat videos after their search for gardening tips got predictably derailed. He greets them by telling Natasha has apparently gone blonde, and while Steve has seen her go through several hairstyles, it feels so out on the left field that he only believes when he sees a photo.

***

Bucky cooks that night, and somehow Steve ends up with nothing particular to do, so he sits at the breakfast nook and mostly just stares at Bucky who’s chopping up things and throwing them into the pan. It’ll be some kind of a stir-fry, hot and spicy. It gets done fast, especially since Bucky has successfully translated his knife wielding skills to cooking; the chopping up is done literally in moments.

It’s familiar, back when they lived together before the war their kitchen was so small there was space for only one to cook at a time, so even when they were at home together they took turns. Steve has spent a lot of evenings sitting at the table, just content to look at Bucky. In retrospect, maybe he should have back then examined why exactly he liked it so much.

It’s familiar and it’s different, their kitchen now is spacious, there’s no need to try to stretch the ingredients for yet another meal, and Bucky is as likely to hum favorites from before the war as contemporary pop. Bucky’s hair is about the same length as it was before the war now that he’s settled with keeping it short, but it’s unruly, the curls flowing free rather than tamed into a perfect part. The arm of course is the most immediately visible difference, although Steve has gotten used to it so well by now that it doesn’t stand out to him anymore, it’s just part of Bucky now. What still sometimes catches his eye is the way Bucky moves, more deliberate and graceful than he ever managed before the war despite all of his considerable dancing skills.

Steve’s eyes land on the chain around Bucky’s neck, partly visible above his collar. It’s been a few weeks now since he gave the tags to Bucky for his birthday, and it still makes his heart warm whenever he sees them. Bucky’s tags came with him to the future, and he used to carry them always with him, on the same chain as his own were. He never wore them, but they were always on him. He even chose his running pants because they had a pocket sewn inside the waistband, where he could put them and they wouldn’t jingle as he ran. For many years, he carried his own tags as a memento, as a tangible memory of what he went through, something he couldn’t leave behind. Bucky’s tags were always with him because they were the last thing he had of Bucky, a memory of his failure.

It’s different now; they both have one tag from each set, and they now symbolize the two of them. They’re a reminder of how they’ve managed to pull through so many hardships, the battles they’ve won. Bucky wears them everywhere except to shower and bed, and Steve still carries them everywhere in his pocket. He’s out of the habit of wearing tags, even though now there’s no particular reason to keep them out of sight. They still sometimes feel too light, and he’s found himself reaching to make sure he still has them, only to remember that Bucky has the other two.

***

“I’m going to get back to work soon,” Steve says later when they’re lingering at the table after their meal.

Bucky hums in acknowledgment. “I was wondering when you’d actually say it.”

“I know you’ve noticed I’m putting more effort in training again. It feels like it’s the time.”

“Bored of housework?” Bucky knocks his knee under the table.

“No, and not like it won’t need doing even when I’m not here all the time. It’s been good to take a break, and it’s not like I’m wandering around the house with nothing to do. It’s just, back when I stopped I couldn’t really find interest in what was going on in the world, for a long time I’d dredged the motivation up because I felt like I had to, but it’s different now. Or maybe familiar, more likely.”

“I’d say so, not like you ever were one to let things lie if you felt like you could do something about it.”

“Right, and when I didn’t, it felt like I wasn’t really me, or that I couldn’t quite reach all of myself.”

Bucky’s eyes soften. “I know. I’m glad you’re doing better. Glad that you took the time.”

“Even though you’ve been happy that I was safe,” Steve has to add, just a bit teasing.

“Can’t deny that, it was a rest for my mind. But I made my peace with who you are a long time ago.”

Steve takes Bucky’s hand in his, just reinforcing the connection. It’s funny to think they really fit together almost better than they ever did, even in their childhood. They’ve always been close, but it feels now that their edges snap together rather that catch and irritate the way they used to before the war. It was after Steve found Bucky in Austria that it started; in the field their and their team’s lives depended on how well they worked together, and the process has now been taken to the final edge. They probably never would have gotten here if not for the dangers they passed together.

“Have you mentioned it at the compound yet?” Bucky asks.

“Not yet. I want to be completely ready when I do, and I’m not, not quite.”

Bucky nods, obviously agreeing with the assessment. “At least you’re not having so many nightmares anymore.”

“True, but it’s not like I’m sleeping perfectly either, feels like it takes more effort than it should.”

“It feels completely stupid, having to learn to sleep all over again,” Bucky says, and he would know; over the last year he too has had many bouts of not sleeping well, and it appears he sometimes just forgets how the process of sleeping works. At least that too has gotten better. Not perfect, but Sam has said insomnia isn’t easy to shake completely, and Steve has now accepted it’ll be a part of their lives, at least for now.

Still, compared to how bad things have been, it’s a small price to pay.

***

They linger at the dinner table fairly long, and when they get up Steve notices Bucky shifting his shoulders as he walks upstairs, tilting his head this way and that, a clear sign of stiff muscles. It’s not at all uncommon, for all that his left arm is the best technology there exists, it’s still not natural to Bucky’s body, and he does get a sore back and shoulders fairly easily.

Steve tugs him along to the stairs toward the bedroom, and he can hear Bucky’s grin when he talks even without looking back at him.

“Someone is eager.”

“Actually I was going to give you a massage,” Steve says, and Bucky lets out an appreciative noise.

“Is it bad that it actually sounds more appealing?”

His tone is sheepish enough that Steve has to laugh at him. “Only if it becomes a rule rather than exception.”

“Yeah, there’s no need to worry about that.” 

Bucky steps closer and wraps his arms around Steve’s waist from the back, nuzzling at the side of his neck. It’s not the easiest way to walk, but Steve just holds onto Bucky’s hands over his stomach and they shuffle into the bathroom.

They do end up jerking each other off in the shower. For one, since they talked about it, having sex is pretty much foregone conclusion, and also if they don’t they’ll end up aroused due to the massage, and have to get to it later, which usually isn’t a problem, but now they both like the idea of just going to sleep afterward.

Steve pops back downstairs to get some water for them, and when he comes back Bucky’s laid a towel on the bed and is lying on his stomach, relaxed and comfortable. Steve takes a moment to just look at him, committing the sight to memory. He’ll definitely be sketching it when he has time later. Even now, more than a year since they moved back together, Steve finds he isn’t yet used to this, used to having Bucky with him. He’s even less used to their physical closeness, while at the same time it’s the most comfortable thing he knows.

He settles over Bucky’s hips and starts to methodically work his way across the muscles of his back and shoulder, finding the knots and loosening them with pressure. It’s a familiar procedure, one that goes both ways, albeit more often it’s Steve giving a massage to Bucky, who with his active life has more potential of muscle strain these days.

Half an hour later when he’s done Bucky is completely relaxed and almost asleep, and it takes a bit of an effort from Steve to get him to roll off the towel and drink some water while Steve turns down the covers. He chucks off the sweatpants he pulled on to go downstairs earlier, puts out the lights and crawls into the bed next to Bucky. They end up with Bucky on his back, Steve on his stomach half on top of him, the long line of their bodies in contact, skin to skin. It’ll get too warm for comfortable sleep in a while, but for now the closeness is what they crave.

Bucky shifts and runs his hand over Steve’s head, a lazy back and forth through his hair, and Steve matches his breathing to the movement and falls asleep after only a few minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two to go, Steve is getting there slowly but surely.


	11. May 4th 2018

It’s been quiet at home for the last few days, because Bucky has been staying at the compound. There have been indications that HYDRA is gearing up for something, and all of the Avengers are on call and have to be ready for immediate deployment. So far nothing has happened, and Steve is getting bored to be at home alone, for all that now with the spring in full swing there are a lot of community projects to take part in all around the neighborhood. It doesn’t change the fact it’s not fun going to bed alone.

Not that he hasn’t had to do that since they started sharing the bed; he has spent many nights alone, but it’s different when Bucky is actually away on a mission, it feels like a fair exchange. They’re separate because Bucky is doing what he needs to do, what he wants to do, and Steve can handle that. Somehow being on standby doesn’t really feel the same, even when technically it’s not at all different.

There is a fairly simple solution, though, one that Steve mulled over all of the previous day, and now yet another waking up alone cements the decision. It’s still early, but instead of heading out for a run he takes a quick shower, packs a weekend bag with a few changes of clothes, other essentials, and a couple of different sized drawing pads with pencils and pens. At the last minute he adds the little watercolor set he takes with him if he wants to do quick paint studies outside of the house. He makes a sandwich out of the leftover beef from last night, eats it and a perfectly ripe orange while his coffee brews, and when it’s done he pours it into the travel mug to drink on the way.

He gets started before the morning traffic has a chance to properly pick up, and he settles in for the two hour drive. He’s past Manhattan when he realizes he hasn’t called or texted Bucky he’s coming, but doesn’t bother to do it now. Bucky will find out soon enough.

These days it actually isn’t that uncommon for him to go to the compound just to hang out. He’s not working yet, but he’s acclimatizing himself with the bustle, getting to know the new people that have come around since he started his break, and just making certain that he is ready to get back to it. Right now he’s almost ready to announce it, he might even do so this time around. 

The drive is soon over, and at first he heads to his former quarters where Bucky stays when he needs to spend a night. Bucky’s not in though, and FRIDAY informs Steve he’s in the training room with Natasha and Sam. It’s not a hard decision to change into one of his training suits still ready and waiting for him. He didn’t even get to do his customary run, so exercise will do him some good.

FRIDAY lets him in to the training room when it’s safe, and it’s a particular kind of happiness he feels as smiles greet him when he calls out, “Is there room for one more?”

***

After the training session Bucky, Natasha, and Sam have a briefing, so Bucky disappears from their quarters after a very quick shower and a kiss that’s not so quick, but hard and insistent instead. Steve lets his fingers dig into Bucky’s hips, hard enough to leave faint bruises that’ll last only for a few hours.

Steve takes a longer shower, enjoying the warm water after the workout that has left him tired in a very satisfying way. He’s worked a lot with Sam and Natasha, and with Bucky it’s a second nature to be in sync. Added to that all the training the other three have done as a group, it’s no wonder all four of them together make a good team as well. It is something he has missed during his break, the seamless teamwork based on trust, knowing that they all can rely on each other no matter how difficult the situation. It reinforces his conviction that it really is time to get back to work very soon.

For now though, he heads out to find something to eat, because it’s been a while since breakfast, not to mention the workout putting a dent to his energy reserves. He takes his drawing supplies with him, thinking of finding somewhere to settle for a bit, to try being the person he’s unearthed during his break even here at the compound.

There are people scurrying around, but the atmosphere is relaxed, so there obviously isn’t any expectation of immediate deployment for the Avengers. There are a lot of people wearing Star Wars shirts, and in the cafeteria he is informed it’s the official Star Wars day due to the pun the date makes. Some of them are wondering if Tony could make a lightsaber if he was asked, after which the discussion derails into an argument of what exactly the lightsaber blades are made of and how they’re contained. Steve concentrates on his lunch, hoping that he doesn’t walk into an impromptu lightsaber battle by the end of the day.

Tony lives on Manhattan with Pepper now, but he regularly comes to the compound to the workshop he has set up there. It’s the one meant for his more exotic projects which Pepper understandably doesn’t want anywhere near their home. His fairly extensive fleet of cars that he often tinkers with, including the not quite flying one Howard showed at the Stark Expo where Steve went with Bucky all those decades ago, is in a garage at the basement of their apartment building.

Steve wanders into the workshop and takes the chair at one end of the table strewn with tiny parts and an array of tools of which he can only name a few. Tony keeps working, and Steve pulls out the smaller of his drawing pads and pencils. It has taken time and effort, but they’re finally in a point where it’s easy to be around each other. They never really got there before the Accords turned everything sideways, but they’ve both done some serious thinking since then, and have managed to find a place of interaction where they’re not rubbing all the hard edges together. They’re not living in a perfect harmony, and Steve suspects that when he gets back to work they might clash a bit more, but he also thinks they now have more tools to solve the disagreements.

After an hour of mostly quiet working Rhodey comes in, apparently having been looking for Steve. He asks Steve if he wants to work on the strategies related to the Avengers’ deployment patterns, and Steve finds himself smiling. He hasn’t talked about returning to work yet to that many people, but obviously more and more of them have realized the time is coming, and have decided to start easing him in. Or they just think he’s taken enough of a break already, but either way works for him.

Steve has always enjoyed drawing battle plans and strategic outlines with Rhodey, because he’s the only other Avenger who has experience as well as theoretical knowledge of such things. Besides the two of them, only Bucky and Sam have been part of military, but since Sam worked mostly on search and rescue, his skill set is a bit different. Bucky too concentrated more on the day to day practicalities, although by necessity all of the Commandos did get in on the planning as well, but it was always to do with the mission in hand, not the general war strategy. Steve and Rhodey are the only ones that have actually studied military strategy in any formal way, Steve before and during the war very sporadically from any source he could find, and more formally while he was with SHIELD.

They spend another hour talking at one end of the table, and Tony keeps working on what looks like a new power unit for his suit at the other, commenting on their discussion every once in a while. About half the time it’s even something useful.

***

In the afternoon he finds a seat at the table in the shared living room. Soon after Wanda and Vision come in too, she greeting him with a hug before they curl up in the corner of one of the couches, Wanda with a book, Vision with a tablet. Steve knows their relationship baffles a lot of people, but he thinks now that with all the strangeness in the world, whenever one finds happiness, it should be held on to regardless of whether it’s something conventional. And they do seem happy together, so it’s enough for him.

He has both of the drawing pads he brought on the table in front of him, as well as the watercolors and a glass of clean water. First he takes the smaller pad and does a quick painting of Wanda and Vision together, letting the reds and purples merge around them.

As he paints he contemplates on how even though Bucky is his family, has been ever since they first met really, in all honesty this is his family too. Not everyone in the building, but all those part of the core team, with potential for many more. He never really expected to have a family, first he was too sick and later there was the war. When he woke up from the ice he hadn’t even wanted one, the loss he’d felt had been too great and he hadn’t wanted to experience anything like it ever again.

Hence, his new family has formed with him as a part of it without him properly realizing it, perhaps without any of them realizing it, but here they are. He’s grateful for it, because now that he’s taken time to look at himself, to consider what he really wants in life, he also knows it fits him perfectly. 

He finishes the painting of Wanda and Vision, and pushes it aside to dry. He’s still thinking of families when he pulls out the larger pad in front of him, and when his thoughts go from his new family to his old one, it’s obvious what he should paint. The story is clear as ever in his mind, his mother’s voice and the Irish accent she never lost echoing in his ears.

In comparison to the rest of his life the first few years when it was just the two of them are short, obscured by the fact that for a lot of the time he was so young his memories aren’t clearly formed. There were other people around of course, neighbors and friends and acquaintances, but none of them was significant to Steve, not before Bucky came into the picture. Hence, what he really remembers form those early years are moments with his mother, the lessons she taught him, her gentle hands, the stories she told.

Many times he has wondered if she would have approved of the choices he’s made in life, has been uncertain so many times whether he’s grown into a man she’d be proud of. With all the self-reflection he’s done recently he’s gained a new perspective even with this. He knows that she probably wouldn’t approve of all his choices, just the same as he knows he’s made mistakes in life, as every single person does. He does believe she would approve of his motivations and the direction his life has taken, would approve of him trying to make the world a better place. And he’s sure too, that she’d love him still, every day of his life. He hopes she is proud, somewhere on the other side.

He remembers her as he paints, and soon enough the paper is filled with a myriad of images of Étaín at different points of the story of her life. As soon as he’s finished, he also knows what he should do with it. He thinks it’s been over half a year since the discussion he had of art with Natasha the time she came around with her wrist broken. Back then she asked him about his own stories, and he said he couldn’t illustrate them, because it was too painful. Here he is now, with the images flowing easily from his brush, the pain of loss still there, as it always will be, but no longer overwhelming.

He talks for a while with Wanda and Vision as he gives the now dry portrait to the two of them, packs his things and carries the still damp fairytale painting carefully in front of him as he heads out to look for Nat.

***

FRIDAY informs him that Natasha is in her ballet studio, so Steve heads there. He’s been there with her several times before, but he actually hasn’t seen her dance yet. He knows it’s something she is very private about, and even being allowed into the room is an honor he cherishes.

The door is closed but she opens it soon as he knocks, and the delighted smile that appears on her face when she sees him just grows even bigger when he shows the painting to her.

“It still needs to dry a bit, but I thought you might like to have it, since you wondered about what kind of stories I considered as specifically mine.”

She looks at the picture, her eyes darting around to take in all the details, Étaín as a woman and a purple fly. The smile on her face has softened. “Why don’t you tell me the story while I go through my practice. We have a bit of time anyway, since Sam is busy with reviewing the procedures of medical aid on field, and James apparently had some upgrade for his arm to be done.”

Steve folds down to sit in a cross legged position, leaning to the wall a bit, and she swiftly puts on her ballet slippers, the laces tight around her ankles before she takes her position at the barre. Steve relaxes, concentrating on the memory of his mother telling the story, and lets the words flow out as they come.

It wasn’t any conscious decision for him to choose to paint this particular story, but now that he’s telling it, it feels very appropriate that it’s the first one he tells her. Étaín’s destiny was decided by others, she was transformed and finally reborn to the possibility of having a new life, and so has Natasha, she has made a life for herself when many people wanted her to never have one. She moves from position to another, always with perfect control, every instant graceful and concentrated, but Steve knows she’s listening.

“You sounded very Irish when you were talking just now,” she says when he’s finished.

“I know. My mother wanted me to be careful about it, to make sure I sounded like the American I am, since the Irish were looked down upon. She probably thought I didn’t need yet another mark against me. Sometimes it still comes through, though.”

Just then Bucky calls from the still open doorway, “Am I interrupting?”

“No, come on in,” Natasha tells him. “Although I might make you partner me.”

“You can dance ballet as well?” Steve asks, interested, because it hasn’t come up so far.

“Yeah, I can, but I’m not going to do it,” Bucky says, the last part to Natasha who shrugs and doesn’t look at all bothered about being denied. “They made me learn probably for the same reason as she did, discipline and control.”

It makes sense, and Steve also understands why Bucky might not want to do it now, while it’s an integral part of Natasha’s life. Bucky had a life before HYDRA, and he’s been reclaiming himself and leaving his time as a prisoner behind him. Natasha on the other hand was so young when she was captured, that there’s nothing to fall back to. She’s had to build her life from the ground up, and Steve imagines there’s a certain kind of satisfaction for her to take things she was made to learn and making them her own. He leans a bit against Bucky’s side when he comes to sit down as well, and shows him the painting. He knows Bucky knows the story as well, he was often around when Sarah told her tales, and those memories have come back.

“I bet Steve would appreciate seeing you in the tights, though,” Natasha grins at Bucky before putting on music and moving to the middle of the floor.

“Well, he’s going to have to do without, since I never got to see him for real in the original Captain America outfit. There were these really tight shorts over tights, so I’m disappointed.”

Steve shakes his head when Natasha laughs hard enough she has to pause the dance, but he’s happy that they can have this, sharing these little tidbits from all of their pasts. They’re things that are difficult and potentially painful, but they all know they’re safe like this, with each other.

***

Steve hasn’t spent a night at the compound since he left for Wakanda to be there when Bucky was woken up until now, and the bed that always felt too big isn’t so anymore now that Bucky is draped half on top of him. They’re not sleeping; they went to bed early and right now Steve is wide awake, and he can tell from Bucky’s breathing that he’s not found dreamland either. It’s good, though, to just lie there together, skin to skin, probably sticking together too but that’s the problem for tomorrow.

“How’s the arm?” Steve asks, remembering Natasha telling him Bucky had some work done on it.

Bucky is quiet for a moment, Steve can almost hear his brain making an effort to catch up, rising from the post-orgasmic glow. “It’s fine, no problems. Shuri had just made improvements to the wrist area, so she sent the parts here and watched as Stark installed them.”

“How did Tony take being hovered over?”

Bucky smiles against his skin. “I think he was so focused on all the technical discussion he didn’t even realize he was being supervised.”

Steve laughs at it, and when he’s calmed he takes up the topic he’s been thinking of since he arrived in the morning. “We’ll need to make this place look more like a home.”

“Yeah, guess so, if we’re going to be spending more time here.” It’s an easy agreement, although Steve can tell Bucky’s focusing more now. “Would make sense when we’re both working. But we’re definitely keeping the house.”

“Yeah, that’s home, always, but this place is rather utilitarian.” Steve says.

“And whose fault is it?”

The apartment is still the same as it was when Steve lived there, Bucky has only made space for himself in the closets, but then again he’s never fully lived here. Steve did, for about a year.

“I know. And you know why.”

“Yes.” Bucky shifts to kiss him on the throat. “And trust me, I’m thrilled that you actually want to make this more like an actual home rather than a hotel room.”

“I’ve thought we’d stay here from Tuesdays to Thursdays, and work from home otherwise, unless there’s a mission. That way we’ll still have a lot of time to spend there.”

“You’ve put thought on the details already,” Bucky says, raising his head. It comes out almost as a question.

“I have. It’s time I think, I’ll probably tell them tomorrow, and then get back to work in a few weeks.”

Bucky looks at him, and Steve knows that despite the almost darkness in the room he can see enough. “And you’re ready?”

“I’m ready,” Steve says and pulls him into a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be real here, the reason they put the booty shorts on Chris Evans in CATFA was because they wanted to emulate the traditional cap costume, but he needs to stand on that stage wide legged and confident, and those dance tights show absolutely everything.


	12. June 4th 2018

Steve wakes up when Bucky rolls out of the bed and goes to the bathroom. It’s early, and since Bucky usually wakes up after him if everything is fine, Steve blinks the last dregs of sleep out of his eyes and listens, in case it’s going to be a bad morning. They haven’t had one of those for a while now, but they’ve both slept less well ever since they came to stay at the compound a week before. It’s not really a surprise it’s taking both of them some time to adjust; it’s safe and comfortable, but it’s not home, at least not yet. He knows that after a while their apartment will most likely become one as well, but it needs more than a week to happen.

The toilet flushes, the faucet runs, and after a few minutes Bucky comes back to the room. There’s no visible unease in him, which means there may have been beginnings of a nightmare that woke him up, but it’s nothing too serious.

“It’s not even five, but I’m not going to be able to sleep anymore,” Bucky says, sitting at the edge of the bed on Steve’s side.

Steve curls his body around Bucky’s for a moment, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist which is kind of awkward but makes Bucky huff in laughter. 

“Want to come for a run?” asks Steve.

Bucky hums. “I kind of feel like hitting things, to be honest.”

“Okay, you go do that, I’ll go for a run, and we meet for a breakfast?”

“That’ll work.”

Few minutes later Bucky’s already dressed in his workout gear and heading out toward the training rooms, and Steve is not far behind, tightening his running shoes. He goes out via the nearest exit and starts at an easy pace toward the forest path he knows well from his previous stay at the compound. The paths around are frequented by other runners as well, but on weekdays this early there won’t be anyone else, and Steve can really run without needing to worry about bumping into others as much as he has to while running in Brooklyn.

As he runs, he thinks back to the previous week. He started work again on Monday a week ago, with the responsibility of being the leader given back to him again, along with a new title. Bucky is still Captain America, so everyone calls Steve Commander Rogers now in official context. His friends do it more often than necessary as well, considering there’s never been any formality among the Avengers, and they manage it with various degrees of straight face, Natasha looking perfectly respectful while being cheeky the way only she can do. At least he got Bucky to agree to not call him by the title when they’re off the clock.

After he announced he would come back but before he officially started, they discussed the role he would take. Rhodey told him then, “Not like anyone else wants to lead this rabble,” and it’s probably true enough. The Avengers, while highly efficient mostly due to their power levels, are still not a seamlessly working fighting unit by any means. They’re getting toward it, but it’s slow going, and being their leader means having to balance between the internal tensions and the external demands.

Not that he minds being the leader, he knows he can do it, and in truth he wants to have control and direction over how they work and what kind of conflicts they act on. The new title, which doesn’t quite yet sit comfortably on him, is part of that, part of the politics that he has to play for them to be successful. He well knows there are people who’d rather see someone other than him leading the Avengers, but they’re not the only ones with opinions or decision making power. He has supporters too among the politicians and other leaders, and there’s also the fact that the pool of people the Avengers would accept to lead them are no more desirable than him to those who would oppose him.

Hence, and Steve gets it’s a move to make themselves look more in charge, he was given the new title, which sounds more officious. There were also other new procedures suggested, new bureaucratic layers to try and keep them in check. Steve knows the policies surrounding them aren’t likely to be changed just because some people have bloated egos, it just makes the politicians feel they’re seen as productive. Steve understands how it works even when he doesn’t like having to be part of it, but it’s the only way to make space for the Avengers to exist, so he grits his teeth and agrees when it comes to the insignificant things, which gives him more field to play when it comes to things that actually matter, because no one can then accuse him of just being contrary.

Besides his new title, they’ve reorganized the command structure of the Avengers. They handle a lot of information and complex procedures, along with all of the administrative work, which means a workload that’s impossible for one person to carry. Steve asked Rhodey to work with him on the administrative and political side as well as coordinating with the UN, since he was part of it while Steve was on a break already, not to mention his experience in the military facilitates things. Steve also contacted Maria, who agreed to come on board and supervise everything to do with the gathering of intelligence and interpreting it. Steve knows that she may head out again if Nick Fury needs her, but he’s confident that while she is part of his team, she’ll put them first, an assessment with which Natasha agrees. Much like they did during the year before the Accords, he and Nat are a team of two, talking everything through, with him being the official front while she moves around in less official capacity, the trust and confidence between the two of them stronger than ever. He’s happy so far, their team works well and they all have time for other things besides paper work.

It’s only been a week, but Steve has praised the efficiency of his new team dozens of times already in his mind, because quite frankly it was a hell of a week to come back to work. The first Monday was mundane enough, just as he’d expected. He’s decided to stay at the compound more during the first few weeks, to settle into things, and after he’s sure everything works and they’re all comfortable, he’ll start working a bit more from home too. As it is, he actually hasn’t been back since they left home the week before, which is not what Steve expected; he’d definitely meant to get back for the weekend to relax with Bucky. At least they’d been savvy enough to hire their neighbor Jayla to see to their mail and garden, she’s trustworthy and handy with more than just bashing in HYDRA goons’ heads in as she memorably did on Bucky’s birthday.

Last Tuesday an alien spaceship appeared in the orbit, which was a scare for all of them, but thankfully it turned out to be Thor with the rest of the Asgardians, and unexpectedly Bruce. It was great to see the two of them again, but at the same time it continues to be a political and diplomatic nightmare. Apparently Asgard has been destroyed, their former king Odin is dead, which makes Thor the new king, and before he passed Odin designated a piece of land in Norway as the site of new home for the Asgardians. Steve is rather of the opinion it was rude of Odin to not ask the Earthlings beforehand, but then again he was the former-sometimes-even-current god of the people at that part of the globe.

The rest of the week was spent in negotiations, Steve and the Avengers having to take part as the by now official defense against extraterrestrial forces. Turns out, the Norwegians are actually pretty thrilled about the idea of having the Asgardians settle there, it’s a barren area anyway so they wouldn’t even be displacing anything. Many other countries are obviously wary about having a race of strong and technologically advanced practically immortals set a camp on Earth, and there’s been references to the amended Accords and questions of whether they need to be applied. Wakanda on the other hand has been for granting the Asgardians a new home, talking about trade possibilities and help with the defense of the Earth, all of which the Asgardians are promising. Right now Steve has no idea how it’ll turn out, but suffice to say he didn’t much sleep during the week.

The negotiations have been paused for now to give time for all of the parties to consider their stance and the assurances or promises needed. One of the major snags in the proceedings is the fact that Loki turned out to be alive and free to go as he pleases, and many people, Steve included, aren’t too thrilled about the idea of having him around, even though Thor seems to have forgiven him. So it’s been complicated, but today at least that particular front promises to be quiet, and they can go along with their business as usual, unless someone else decides it’s a good time to cause havoc.

Steve goes over it all in his mind as he runs, thinks of the matters he needs to deal with during the day, and while it promises to be busy, it doesn’t fill him with exhaustion as such things did before he decided to take the break.

***

It turns out to be a regular day happily enough, which means Steve manages to be present at the training session in the morning with the whole group there. They focus on working together and combining their skills in new ways, and it’s the kind of training they all enjoy; it’s efficient but also a lot of fun. After a quick shower Steve grabs a snack and goes through the paperwork that accumulated during the previous week when they were busy with the situation with Asgard.

He has lunch with Sam, who hadn’t made it to lunch with most others due to a phone call from one of the veterans he sponsors as part of his continued volunteer work at the VA. He’d met Natasha and Bucky at the cafeteria as they were leaving, and had told him to come pester Steve to eat. Steve has to admit they had a point, he had been distracted and only noticed it was a bit late right when Sam came to get him, since his stomach started complaining.

There are a few other stragglers but in general the cafeteria is quiet, and it’s as comfortable as their regular coffee meetings have been during the past year. They spend most of the lunch talking about the shortcomings of the VA network and their resources, one of the reasons why Sam still volunteers on the side of his Avenger work. Steve is not that big a fan of the fundraising circuit, but he thinks they might do an event for the benefit of the VA now that he’s in a better place with himself. In general he’s of the opinion that the federal government should put more money on it, spend a little less on weapons and more on the people, an opinion he has publicly brought up a few times, and no doubt will do again, but they have to help in other ways they can as well.

They’re almost done when Sam finally inquires him about how his week has gone, which Steve has been waiting for him to do. With all the rush they haven’t had too much time to talk lately, and it is Sam’s tendency to check up on his friends.

“It’s funny, because on one hand it was a busier week than I really wanted, even though it could have been worse, you know?”

“Could have been hostile aliens instead,” says Sam.

“Exactly. But it kind of helped too, I think, made me just get into it and not worry.”

“So you do worry about whether you’re ready?”

Steve shakes his head. “No. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure. But I spent so long doing other things that it feels like I should be doing something else still, and on quiet days like this there’s more time to remember it.”

“Yeah, I know. Back when I signed up with the Avengers, I felt like I was faking it, since I’d gotten pretty well immersed into civilian life,” Sam says. “And later, when I started volunteering at the VA again after we were pardoned, I felt like I had no idea what the hell I was doing while there.”

“Just got to do it until it settles with us, I guess.”

“Seems to work for me.”

Sam tips his glass toward him and Steve clinks his against it, funny as it is when they’re mostly empty of the water they’ve been drinking with their meal, but it’s the thought that counts. There’s a calm that settles over him, and the rest of the day feels more normal already. He spends the afternoon sifting through the intelligence reports with Maria and Nat for a couple of hours, after which he heads out for the hand-to-hand combat session of the afternoon.

***

Steve has, on occasion, thought that the personal quarters at the compound are too lavish, something that didn’t really surprise him when they first moved in. Back then he already was well aware of Tony’s tendencies. Now though, since they live and work together with Bucky, he definitely appreciates the fact they comfortably fit together in the shower without having to fear bumping elbows through walls.

Steve gets in first and turns the water on still delighting in both the fact that it’s immediately hot and that there’s enough of it. He stands under the spray, arms hanging limp at his sides, consciously letting go of the day, the work and the responsibilities he carries, allowing them to slide away with the water. He hasn’t managed to even think about washing his hair yet when Bucky comes in and plasters himself right against Steve’s backside, hands sliding around his waist to hold him tight, lips pressing a kiss behind his ear. It’s a good thing they’ve got plenty of time before anyone’s expecting them for dinner, because they’re not going to be conserving water this night.

They do actually wash their hair first; it’s a practical matter, because it’ll be nice to be able to just relax afterward. They take their time, helping each other which probably makes it less than efficient, but they both enjoy the connection, and when he looks into Bucky’s eyes and sees the little content smile, Steve knows he too is thinking back to the day when they did this for the first time, when their relationship both changed and didn’t. The physical side of it blossomed then, but their love for each other had been forged strong long before.

Bucky shifts even closer, his hands firm on Steve’s hips, guiding him back against the now warmed up tiles. Steve goes easily, tipping his head back when Bucky leans in for a kiss that’s messy and open mouthed from the start. The weight of responsibility falls even further away from Steve’s consciousness, all he has to do right now is think of Bucky, let the bliss wash over him. He knows it’s deliberate of Bucky to be this insistent, to take charge now that they’re alone, because it’s in a way what he’s always done, making sure Steve’s not overwhelmed by the duty. Now he just has a few new tools for the purpose. During the years they spent apart Steve didn’t know how to do it for himself, which led to him needing the break, and now that he actually is better at dealing with all of it, he has Bucky too, determined as ever to help him bear the load. It’s easy as anything for Steve to surrender, to let Bucky guide him around so that he’s leaning with his back flush against Bucky chest, head tipped back as Bucky presses sucking kisses on the side of his neck and reaches to tease his nipple with the metal hand.

Steve is completely hard already even though they’ve only brushed against each other so far, and Bucky is too, his cock slipping between Steve’s legs. Steve shifts his feet closer to give Bucky a tighter place to thrust into and reaches back to take hold on Bucky’s hip to get him moving. Bucky does too, taking a few seconds to find the position and rhythm before he settles to it, still kissing Steve’s neck and rubbing the now swollen nub of his left nipple. Steve holds his legs together, swimming in the sensation of Bucky’s lips and hands on him, his cock sliding between his things, the deliberate movement of his hips.

He doesn’t even think of touching his own cock even though it’s heavy and aching, swollen under the falling water. Instead he leans into Bucky and listens to the heavy breaths and halfway strangled moans, the world narrowing into just the two of them, everything else falling away. He can tell Bucky is close to coming from the way his chest is heaving and the pace of his hips start to stagger, and he tightens his thigh muscles which finally sends Bucky over.

Steve spends a second in the familiar happy satisfaction that he always feels when Bucky comes, because it means everything, it’s still a miracle that Bucky trusts him enough to let go so completely when they’re together, but then Bucky proves he’s not completely gone in the moment because he wraps his right hand that so far has held onto Steve’s hip around his almost too sensitive cock. It immediately overwhelms Steve, washing away everything but the bliss, and he thinks he shouts even though he can only hear the rush of blood in his ears. It’s almost too much to be touched right now, and Bucky isn’t gentle about it either, his fingers circling Steve’s cock tight and moving fast, demanding that he too finds a release.

It only takes a moment, Steve knows he’s filling the shower cubicle with his moans and pants, the hot and humid air rushing into his lungs, and when he comes the only thing he feels is Bucky, he even loses the sensation of the floor under his feet.

Quite literally too, it appears as he comes back to himself, because the only reason he’s upright is Bucky holding him, arms tight around his torso and face pressed to the side of his throat. Steve is sure he can feel Bucky smiling against his skin as he gathers his legs under himself and takes the weight off Bucky.

When he turns Bucky indeed is smiling, that carefree and perfectly happy smile that’s gotten more and more regular over the last few months, one that never fails to make Steve smile in return. He too is perfectly happy, not just because of this moment but in general, he knows their lives are not what they ever expected but now that they’re here, Steve wouldn’t change anything, and he knows Bucky feels the same.

Bucky settles hands over his hips once more, gentle and firm, and guides him under the spray to rinse off. “Come on, let’s get out of here, I’m parched.”

“Could do with a dinner too,” says Steve, sliding his hands all over Bucky in return as they make sure they’re clean.

***

They have a communal dinner that night with all of the Avengers present at the compound attending, and afterward they linger in the common room, even though they all mostly sit by twos and threes, conversing quietly or doing something on their own. They sometimes do so, just spend time around each other even when there isn’t any specific group activity happening. Steve has always felt it helps to make the team a more tightly knit unit, easier to trust and be comfortable with each other, which in turn leads to a better performance on field.

They’ve commandeered most of one of the couches with Bucky, leaving one corner of it for Wanda to curl up. She’s almost asleep, tired from having spent a few days with Doctor Strange on another plane of reality and exploring the potentials of her magic. Bucky is sitting at the other corner, reading a book called  _ The Fifth Season. _ When Natasha gave it and the following novels to him, Steve heard her tell Bucky they’re the kind of books that might be difficult to read, but that she’d connected with them and thought he might too. So far Steve thinks it’s the same for Bucky, there are moments when the contents obviously hit him hard, but he’s been spending a lot of his free time recently with it, which suggests it connects the right way.

Steve is lying stretched across the couch, his head resting on Bucky’s thigh, both of them reveling in the closeness, and Steve at least is still loose with the afterglow. For all that they’ve had friends over and they’ve been fairly publicly together for months now, he still isn’t quite used to how they can show their closeness without anyone commenting on it. The knowledge from before of what could and couldn’t be done still lingers at the back of his head, not to mention that in general Steve has spent years withdrawing, always holding a wall up around himself while in the company of even those he considers friends. He’s making a conscious effort to let it go now, and it’s getting easier bit by bit.

He brought a sketchbook with him, and he has it propped up against his bent legs as he’s drawing Nat and Sam, sitting together on the other couch playing some kind of a game on a tablet, both of them grinning. There are also Rhodey, Vision, and Bruce, who linger at the table and discuss the newest scientific theory on the black holes and space travel. Steve half listens to the chatter around, trying to absorb the feeling rather than content, letting it wash over him as he relaxes.

He’s not quite sure when exactly the journey that has led him where he now is began, it feels like there are many beginnings to it, each of which had to happen. A lot of the reasons why he does this job are still the same; that if there’s injustice in the world he has to try his best to right it. It has cost him along the way, but he has gained a lot too, the most important thing being the extended family that has formed, both the people in the room now, as well as others that are important to him but not present. They are a blessing he never could have known to ask for, and yet got.

Bucky shifts and settles his hand on top of Steve’s head, idly massaging his scalp while obviously immersed in the book. He too is a blessing for Steve every day, starting from the simple fact that he’s there, extending to the life they’ve made together. It’s a good life altogether, and Steve again pauses to just really feel the happiness inside his chest, filing it into his memories. Just a year ago he didn’t remember how it felt to be happy, maybe didn’t even have the knowledge at all. It was too far out of his reach, even though he’d already settled in their home in Brooklyn with Bucky. Back then even that had been overwhelming, almost incomprehensible that he was allowed to have it, but now it’s the most normal thing in the world, and it’s just as things should be.

He finishes the drawing and puts the book down by his side, and when he looks up to Bucky their eyes meet, and the happiness that now lives in both their hearts is plain to see. It’s no longer just a private thing, it’s strong enough now to be out in the open, and they both realize it at the same time. It’s momentous, and yet something completely natural, yet another step on their path of life. They smile at each other before Bucky continues reading and Steve picks up his sketchbook, flips to an empty page, and begins filling it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cooked up the concept of this fic in my head in March 2017, and while I was confident I could manage the posting schedule, I knew it wasn’t given I’d succeed with it. Yet here we are, with 24 chapters posted on pre-determined days, not a single one missed. I have to say I’m extremely satisfied by that, but also on the whole how the story turned out.
> 
> I hope it’s been as fun to read as it was to write, thank you all for reading, whether you were following along, waited until I was done or something in-between.
> 
> There’ll be a coda for this verse, a single chapter part three of the series, set and posted on July 4th. Of course I need to write something for Steve's hundredth birthday, and this verse obviously fits the bill.
> 
> I’m also on [tumblr](http://stellahibernis.tumblr.com/post/162593017177/from-one-foot-to-the-other).


End file.
